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'Granite State Magazine , 

An Illustrated Monthly Devoted to the His- 

" tory, Story, Scenery, Industry and 

Interest of New Hampshire 



January to June, 1906 

Manchester, n. h.: 


'■ -V 693882 
Contente-IM. I 


At the Falls of Namoskeag (Poem). Allen Eastman Cross 97 

Auburn by the Lake. A Staff Contributor 233 

Author of "Mary's Little Lamb." George Bancroft Griffith 210 

Author of " Woodranger Tales." Ways of the Wild 116 

Baldwin, Maurice. The Old Mill (Poem) 53 

Barker, David, Esq. To " Leather French " (Poem) 302 

Bass, Cora C. Where Passaconnaway Was Wont to Stand (Poem) 40 

Battle of Chelsea Creek. Fred W. Lamb 183 

Because cf You (Poem). Claribell Egbert 186 

Belknap, The. Prof. J. Warren Thyng 57 

Blossoms and Fruits (Poem). Frances E. Fryatt . 229 

Boating Days on the Merrimack. George Waldo Browne 157 

Brenton, Elizabeth Curtis. Twilight (Poem) 115 

Browne, George Waldo. Boating Days on the Merrimack 157 

Castles of Youth (Poem) 182 

First Survey of the Merrimack River 133 

Light of Love (Poem) 43 

Queen of the Months (Poem) 286 

Separation (Poem) 63 

Stone Age, The 193, 271 

The King (Poem) 165 

The Merrimack River 5, 65, 133, 157, 193, 271 

Tis the Giver Who Sweetens the Kiss (Poem) 226 

Calling the Cows (Poem). ( Eugene J. Hall 284 

Castles of Youth (Poem). George Waldo Browne 182 

Colby, Vrkderick Myron. Granite State Rooftrees , 13 

Historic Warner Houses 177 

Cross, Allen Eastman. The Ninth Star (Poem) 92 

At the Falls of Namoskeag (Poem) 97 

Currier, Moody. The Old Man of the Mountain (Poem) 191 

Davis, Bailey K. Origin of River Names in Berlin 141 

The Lost Mine 230 

Diamonds in Granite, An Old-Timer 215, 298 

Difficult Courtship, A. Nestor of the Farms 88 



Earle, Mabel. Where the River is Born (Poem) 78 

Editor's Window, The 49, 94, 144, 187, 314 

Egbert, Claribel. Because of You (Poem) 186 

Epping Oaks (Poem). L. Lavinia Verrill 125 

First Sur\ey of the Merrimack River. George Waldo Browne. . . . 133 

Fogg, Jeremiah. Orderly Book 292 

Foss, Sam Walter. The Uncanoonuc Mountains (Poem) 200 

Fryatt, Frances E. Blossoms and Fruit (Poem) 229 

Granite State Memoirs. Editor 303 

Roof trees. Frederick Myron Colby 13, 177 

Prof. J. Warren Thyng 280 

Griffith, George Bancroft. Author of "Mary's Little Lamb" 210 

Kearsarge in Midwinter (Poem) 209 

Nancy Priest Wakefield 126 

New Hampshire Hills (Poem) 64 

The Swiss Good-Night (Poem) 145 

Griffin, Sebastian S. An Irish Legend (Poem) 218 

Hall, Eugene J. Calling the Cows (Poem 284 

House on the Hill (Poem) 18 

Harvest of the Orchard, The (Poem). Prof. J. Warren Thyng 120 

Heroic Deeds of Many Lands. Victor St. Clair 221, 287 

Historic Warner Houses. Frederick Myron Colby 177 

House on the Hill, The (Poem). Eugene J. Hall 18 

Husking Bee, The. Nestor of the Farms 29 

Indian Legend, An (Poem). S. S. Griffin 218 

Jacob Sheafe. Lucien Thompson 228 

Johnny Appleseed and His Mission. An Old-Timer 215 

Kearsarge in Midwinter (Poem). George B. Griffith 209 

Lamb, Fred W. Battle of Chelsea Creek 183 

Last of the Penacooks. Chandler E. Potter 61 

••« Leather French." An Old-Timer 298 

Light, of Love (Poem). George Waldo Browne 40 

Little Jim (Poem). Susan Hubbard Martin 175 

Longfellow, Hon. Jonathan. John Scales, A. M 105 

Lost Mine, The. Bailey K. Davis 230 

Martin, Susan Hubbard. Little Jim (Poem) 175 

Memories of the Fireplace. Nestor of the Farms 166 

Merrimack River, The. George Waldo Browne .5, 65, 133 

157, 193, 271 

Mountain Maid, The (Poem). Edna Dean Proctor 267 



Nancy Priest Wakefield. George B. Griffith 126 

Nestor of the Farms. A Difficult Courtship S8 

Memories of the Fireplace 166 

The Husking Bee 29 

New Hampshire Hills (Poem). George B. Griffith 64 

Ninth Star, The (Poem). Allen Eastman Cross 92 

Old Man of the Mountain, The (Poem). Moody Currier 191 

Old Mill, The (Poem). Maurice Baldwin 53 

Orderly Book of Jeremiah Fogg. Albert A. Folsom ,. . . . . 292 

Origin of River Names in Berlin. Bailey K. Davis 144 

Sarsaparilla ." ." . 227 

Peaslee, Walter S. To Lake Asquam (Poem) 131 

Potter, Chandler E. Last of the Penacooks 61 

Proctor, Edna Dean. The Mountain Maid (Poem) 267 

Queen of the Months (Poem). George Waldo Browne 286 

Romance of " Ocean Mary," The. Prof. J. Warren Thyng 280 

Scales, John, A. M. Hon. Jonathan Longfellow 105 

Separation (Poem). George Waldo Browne 63 

Sla\e Bill of Sale, A. Jacob Sheafe 229 

Snow-Shoe Men, The. Ezra S. Stearns, A. M 149, 201 

St. Clair, Victor. Boy Without Fear 221 

The Young Peace-Makers 287 

Staff Contributor, A. Auburn by the Lake 233 

Stearns. Ezra S., A. M. Snow-Shoe Men 149, 201 

Stone Age, The. George Waldo Browne 193, 271 

Sweet By and By, The. Prof. J. Warren Thyng 21 

Swiss Good Night, The (Poem). George B. Griffith 145 

The King (Poem). George Waldo Browne 165 

Thompson, Lucien. Jacob Sheafe 228 

Thyng, Prof. J. Warren. The Belknap 57 

The Harvest of the Orchard 120 

Romance of " Ocean Mary " 280 

Sweet By and By 21 

*Tis the Giver Who Sweetens the Kiss (Poem). G. Waldo Browne 226 

To Lake Asquam (Poem). Walter S. Peaslee 131 

Twilight (Poem). Elizabeth Curtis Brenton 115 

Uncanoonuc Mountains, The (Poem). Sam Walter Foss 200 

Verrill, L. Lavinta. Epping Oaks (Poem) 125 



Ways of the Wild. Author of Woodranger Tales 116 

Wheeler, Capt. Thomas. Wheeler's Narrative 4l, 79 

Wheeler's Narrative. Capt. Thomas Wheeler 41, 79 

Where Passaconnaway Was Wont to Stand (Poem). Cora C Bass 40 

Where the River Was Bom (Poem). • Mabel Earle 78 

White Mountains, The (Poem). John G. Whittier 1 

Whittier, John G. The White Mountains (Poem). 1 

Young Peace-Makers, The. Victor St. Clair 287 

Htfit of SSllustrattons 


Amoskeag Falls in Winter. Photograph by A. H. Sanborn .. Frontispiece 

Auburn by the Lake. Photograph by F. H. Prescott OpP- 233 

Belknap, Wreck of. Drawn by Prof. J. Warren Thyng Gpp. 57 

Birthplace of Author of Sweet By and By. Drawn by J. Warren 

Thyng...-. 23 

Brook at Auburn Village. Photograph by F. H. Prescott 234 

Brown, William G 245 

Mrs. William G 246 

James F., M. D 260 

Caesar's Beach. Drawn by Prof. J. Warren Thyng 25 

Calef House, The Old 235 

Champlain, Samuel de Gpp. 7 

Canal Boats (Three). Drawn by Henry W. lierrick Opp. 157 

Cody, Walter : Opp. 303 

Cohas Brook 238 

Congregational Church, Auburn. 257 

Courting Stick Opp. 173 

Cross, Allen Eastman Opp. 97 

Currier, Hon. Moody Opp. 191 

Devil's Den, showing Profile. Photograph by Prescott 255 

Eaton, Benjamin 248 

Mrs. Benjamin 249 

Frank, M. D /. 250 

Mrs. Lucy 247 




Falls of Amoskeag Opp. 101 

First House Built in Deerfield. Drawn by Miss Ella C. Marston 

( >pp. 105 

Fox, Andrew F . . , . . 243 

Homestead 244 

French Flag ". .Opp. 10 

G-ydner Plan of the Merrimack. Drawn by Ernest A. Berlund 

Opp. 140 

Griffin, W. H.. Family 241 

Home 237 

Sebastian S . . . 239 

Mrs. Sebastian S , . . 240 

Griffith, George Bancroft Opp. 145 

Hall Family Opp. 265 

Harvest of the Orchard. Drawn by Pupils of Manchester High 

School Opp. 120 

Memories of. Drawn by Pupils of Manchester High School 

Opp. 124 

Hooksett Falls Opp. 64 

Home of " Ocean Mary." Drawn by Miss Jane Cutter Opp. 283 

Indian Primitive Mill Opp. 274 

Snow-Shoes Opp. 201 

Lake Asquam. Drawn by Prof. J. Warren Thyng. . . . . Opp. 132 

Lake Massabesic. Photograph by Ellinwood Opp. 36 

East Bay. Photograph by Prescott Opp. 261 

Lake Shore Farm 253 

Methodist Church, Auburn 236 

Old Dam at Sebago, Auburn 263 

Oldest Suspension Bridge in America Opp. 72 

Old Mill, The. Drawn by J. Warren Thyng Opp. 53 

Old Pound in Auburn. Photograph by Prescott 256 

Old-Time Kitchen.. -. Opp. 169 

Passaconnaway Monument Opp. 12 

Pine Bluff House, Auburn 252 

Prescott House, Auburn 251 

Queen of the Months. Drawn by Edith A.- Barber Opp. 286 




Scene of Captain Wheeler's Surprise, 1675 Opp. 80 

Site of J. P. Webster's Birthplace. Photograph by Ellinwood. .Opp. 21 

Stone Age, Relics of '. Opp. 196, 278 

Scrapers, Knives and Dish Opp- 271 

Twilight ot Opp. 193 

The Elm » : 254 

Underhill, Wells C 258 

, Mrs. Wells C 259 

Wayside Cabin. Photograph by Prescott 262 

Where the Rocks Are Fringed With Snowy Lacework Opp- 5 

Whittier, John G ." 1 

WT i ^ww'^™>*r' ' ! - ' *Tr*m > t r * ? r 



1M. 1. 3anuarp, 1906. $2o. I 

An Illustrated Monthly 

Devoted to the 

History, Story, Scenery, 

Industry and Interest 

of New Hampshire 


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wet? m 


V the 

Publisfjeb fcp 

^Tfte ©rantte ^State Pufilfefjmg Co., 

^aOA^Jai^ Tf-.iih^ ^^ •'•'" ' f-1^***** 1 ' 

| Modern Life Dernands | 


Business men are everywhere searching for young 
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The teaching of these practical things is the 
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"It's a Good School 


7i J. Hi HKSSER, Principal, MANCHESTER, N. H. 

Cfje Wfytt fountains 

By John Greenleaf Whittier. 

WHITT1ER has been called the Poet of Freedom. 
He was more than that ; he was the Poet of Nature. 
And nowhere has he given us finer examples of 
his loving touch than in his exquisite pictures of 
the Granite Hills, with "their sentinel sides and 
cloud-crowned brows," which he painted in rare 
word-coloring. This was but the natural expres- 
sion of the true artist, for the mountains ever breathe of freedom, and 
their grandeur finds a hearty appreciation in him who has the sin- 
cere veneration for the deeply religious thoughts they awaken, and 
the divine lessons they teach to the honest searcher after abiding 
truth. In the following beautiful verses our Poet most happily ex- 
emplified his masterful genius. — Editor. 

rr^RAY searcner °f tne upper air! 
£^&- There's sunshine on thy ancient walls — 
&^g& ^ crown upon thy forehead bare — 
A flashing on thy water-falls — 
A rainbow glory in the cloud, 
Upon thy awful summit bowed, 

Dim relic of the recent storm ! 
And music, from the leafy shroud 
Which wraps in green thy giant form, 
Mellowed and softened from above, 

Steals down upon the listening ear, 


Sweet as the maiden's dream of love, 
With soft tones melting on her ear. 

The time has been, gray mountain, when 

Thy shadows veiled the red man's home ; 
And over crag and serpent den, 
And wild gorge, where the steps of men 

In chase or battle might not come, 
The mountain eagle bore on high 

The emblem of the free of soul ; 
And midway in the fearful sky 
Sent back the Indian's battle-cry, 

Or answered to the thunder's roll. 

The wigwam fires have all burned out — 

The moccasin hath left no track — 
Nor wolf nor wild-deer roam about 

The Saco or the Merrimack. 
And thou that liftest up on high 
Thine awful barriers to the sky, 

Art not the haunted mount of old, 
When on each crag of blasted stone 
Some mountain-spirit found a throne, 

And shrieked from out the thick cloud-fold, 
And answered to the Thunderer's cry 
When rolled the cloud of tempest by, 
And jutting rock and riven branch 
Went down before the avalanche. 

The Father of our people then 
Upon thy awful summit trod, 


And the red dwellers of the glen 

Bowed down before the Indian's God. 

There, when His shadow veiled the sky, 
The Thunderer's voice was long and loud, 

And the red flashes of His eye 

Were pictured on the o'erhanging cloud. 

The Spirit moveth there no more, 

The dwellers of the hill have gone, 
The sacred groves are trampled o'er, 

And footprints mar the altar-stone. 
The white man climbs thy tallest rock 

And hangs him from the mossy steep, 
Where, trembling to the cloud-fire's shock, 
Thy ancient prison-walls unlock, 
And captive waters leap to light, 
And dancing down from height to height, 

Pass onward to the far-off deep* 

Oh, sacred to the Indian seer, 

Gray altar of the days of old ! 
Still are thy rugged features dear, 
As when unto my infant ear 

The legends of the past were told. 
Tales of the downward sweeping flood, 
When bowed like reeds thy ancient wood, — 

Of armed hand and spectral form, 
Of giants in their misty shroud, 
And voices calling long and loud 

In the drear pauses of the storm ! 


Farewell I The red man's face is turned 

Toward another hunting ground ; 
For where the council-fire has burned, 

And o'er the sleeping warrior's mound 
Another fire is kindled now: 
Its light is on the white man's brow I 

The hunter race has passed away — 
Ay, vanished like the morning mist, 
Or dew-drops by the sunshine kissed, — 

And wherefore should the red man stay ? 








8^3* t 






Granite ^tate jtftSaga^ne 

Vol. I. JANUARY, 1906. No. 1. 

CJje Merrimack Ctiber 

The Romance, History, Scenery and Industry of the "River 

of Broken Waters." 

By George Waldo Browne. 

(Copyrighted by the Author 1905) 

A silver band, the Merrimack 
Links mountain to the sea ; 

And as it runs this story 
It tells to you and me. 

— Nellie M. Browne. 

HE Merrimack River was a noted stream among the 
rj||| aborigines long before the appearance of the North- 
men upon the sedgy shores of Old Vinland. Among 
the traditions of the Abnakis was one of a " river of broken 
waters," expressed in their tongue in the form of the un- 
couth word, as it is spoken by us, of Kaskaashadi. Upon 
its banks rival tribes had for many generations contended 
for the supremacy. Another legend, told among the Algon- 
quins of the valley of the St. Lawrence, was to the effect 
that beyond the " great carrying-places" ran a swift river 
filled with fish, and forever guarded at its northern gateway 
by "an old man with a stone face," whose environments 
were grounds to them too sacred to be trod by warrior foot. 
As early as 1604, that adventurous voyager from Old 
France, Sieur du Monts, wrote in his accounts of dis- 
coveries and settlements that the " Indians speak of a 
beautiful stream far to the south called by them Merremack" 
The first white man who is credited with having seen this 


river was that intrepid explorer and pioneer of New France, 
Samuel de Champlain, who, while sailing along the coast of 
New England in the summer of 1605, discovered a river on 
the 17th day of July, which he named "The Riviere du 
Gaust," in honor of his patron, Sieur du Monts, who held a 
patent from the King of France for all of the country to 
the north and east. This stream, discovered by Cham- 
plain, has been claimed by many to have been the Merri- 
mack, though his own records would seem to show con- 
clusively that it was the River Charles. The traditions of 
the Norsemen, in the Saga of Edric, speak of a river whose 
descriptions indicate that they saw the Merrimack, but their 
pages are too vague to be accepted without a doubt. So 
the name of the first European to gaze upon its swift waters 
has not been recorded beyond dispute. 

According to the practice of a people without a written 
language, several names were given the river by the abo- 
rigines, each denoting some particular feature of that 
section. The following are among the best known, with 
their primitive derivations : 

First " The Merrimack," which has outlived the others, 
from merru, swift ; asquam, water ; ack or anke, place ; that 
is, "swift water place." In the pronunciation of this word 
or phrase the syllables " asquam" became abbreviated to the 
sound of one letter — " m." This seems to have been a 
frequent practice among the Amerinds, which many writers 
have explained erroneously by saying that a letter or sound 
had been "thrown in for euphony's sake." An uneducated 
people may curtail an expression, but they never add any- 
thing for effect. This name was probably applied originally 
to that portion of the river between Garvin's Falls in Bow, 
N. H., and Pawtucket Falls at Lowell, Mass. 

Another term, which has already been mentioned, and 
was probably applied to the section first named, was that of 
Kaskaashadi, in its completeness meant literally " the place 
of broken water." 

From the O'Niel copy of the Hamel Painting. 


Another designation applied, says Judge Potter, to 
that part of the river extending from Turkey Falls in Bow 
to the Souhegan River in Merrimack, N. H., was Nomas- 
ket. This was derived from names, fish ; kees, high ; et, a 
place ; that is, " high fish place," or " high place for fish." 
This word has been spelled as many as fifty different ways, 
its easiest transition being from Namasket to Namoaskeag, 
to c/Jmoskeag, which survives as the name of the highest 
falls of the river. 

On account of the great number of sturgeons to be 
found at certain periods of the year, the river was also called 
Cabassank : from cabass, a sturgeon ; auk, place ; that is, 
"place of the sturgeon." Dr. Drew gives the orthography 
of this word as cobbossee. This term was also applied to a 
portion of the Kennebec River. 

Certain places of the river where the waters ran more 
gently were known as Wampineauk : from wampi, clear or 
sunny ; nebe, water ; auk, place ; that is, " place of clear 
water," or, as we might say, "sunny river." 

Yet another poetical designation was that of Moniack : 
from mona, island ; ach, place ; that is, " place of . the 
islands." This name was given the stream toward its 
mouth, though the poet makes it extend to greater limits : 

" Deep in the vale old Moniack rolls his Tides, 

Romantic prospects crown his reverend Sides ; 
And thro' wild Grotts and pendent Woods he strays, 

And ravished at the sight, his Course delays. 
Silent and calm — now with impetuous shock 

Pours his swift Torrent down the impetuous Rock ; 
The tumbling waves thro' airy channels flow, 

And loudly roaring, smoke and foam below." 

There is no doubt that the Indians had a strong at- 
tachment for this river, which afforded them such good 
facilities for fishing, and whose wooded banks were retreats 
for the deer and other four-footed denizens of the wild- 
woods. Thus it became the debatable ground between rival 
tribes of the warriors of the wilderness. In this valley 
was fought many a sanguinary battle by the Mohawks and 
the Abnakis, and by both against the more peaceful Pena- 


cooks. Upon the "brave lands" just above where the city 
of Concord, N. H., now stands, the last-named met their 
Waterloo, though so desperately and effectually did they 
make their final defense that it does not appear as if their 
long-time enemies rallied to renew the war against them. 
This great battle, or series of battles, with possibly one ex- 
ception, another contest waged by the Mohawks against the 
Sokokis, was the most sublime ever fought by the natives 
in early New England. It seems to have taken place about 
fifty years before the advent of the Pilgrims at Plymouth 

One of the consequences was the removal of the chief 
lodgment of the Penacooks to the smooth bluff overlooking 
the Merrimack within sight of Amoskeag Falls. From here, 
a few years later, their sachem, the noble Passaconnaway, 
formed his seat of government at Pawtucket. It was here 
Eliot found him, and, converted to Christianity, the saga- 
more counseled peace towards the whites among his fol- 
lowers. It is possible that the chief may have considered 
this the only safe policy, as in addition to the disasters of a 
long warfare with the enemy from the West, his people had 
been greatly reduced in numbers through the ravages of a 
terrible disease which had swept over the aboriginal tribes 
of New England a short time before the coming of the 
Europeans, but there was nothing in his whole course of 
action to throw suspicion upon his sincerity. Among the 
prominent leaders of his unfortunate race he stands as one 
of Nature's noblemen, and his influence upon his followers 
was of lasting good to the English. The fate of this 
sachem is involved in conjecture, as no one knew where or 
when he disappeared from the scene of action, though it 
was not until he had lived more than a hundred years. There 
is a tradition, very vague and uncertain for even a tra- 
dition, that says he sought, when he felt that his end was 
near, the shore of Lake Massabesic, and entering his frail 
canoe drifted out over the placid water to return no more. 


What a picturesque sight was presented by the tall, erect 
figure of this aged chieftain, standing upright in the centre 
of his fragile craft, while it was slowly wafted by the rip- 
pling tide away from the pine-fronded landscape which 
swiftly vanished before the incoming of the pale-faces, but 
whose going out was slower than the disappearance of that 
race of which he was a grand representative. 

Passaconnaway was succeeded by his son Wannalan- 
cet, who proved worthy to wear the mantle of his proud 
father. After a few years he departed from the Merrimack 
valley with the remnant of his tribe to join the Indians 
from Maine and elsewhere who had sought the protection 
of the French at the missionary settlement of St. Francis, 
in New France. There is nothing to show that these 
warriors, to any extent, aided the French in their move- 
ments against the English. Wannalancet himself soon re- 
turned to visit the scenes of his earlier life, where he finally 
died and was buried, it is believed, in the private cemetery 
of the Tyng family, in the present town of Tyngsboro, 
Mass. It is pleasant to note that the Massachusetts 
Society of Colonial Dames have placed upon one of the 
boulders lying near the colonial mansion house occupied by 
Colonel Jonathan Tyng, where the last of the Penacook 
sachems passed his closing years, a memorial tablet properly 
inscribed. In the Edson cemetery of Lowell is a statue 
with granite base erected to the memory of his father, 

Though a solitary red man, from time to time, returned 
to look with mournful gaze upon the disappearing forests of 
his forefathers as late as 1750, without grievous license 
years before this the poet could exclaim : 

"By thy fair stream 
The red man roams no more. No more he snares 
The artful trout, or lordly salmons spear ; 
No more his swift-winged arrow strikes the deer." 

The foremost of that race which was to prove the con- 
querors of his people settled in the Merrimack valley seven 


years after the landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth. 
While springing from the same source as the other colony, 
this band was ushered in upon the primeval scene under 
more favorable auspices, and was destined to become more 
prosperous and far-reaching in its enterprises. While the 
former was composed of men who had never enjoyed the 
advantages of wealth and opulence, but were of austere 
principle, among these last came some of the best blood of 
England. They were men of education, talent, good 
standing, who had been able to obtain official recognition 
from the Court of London at the outset. Having associ- 
ated themselves together as " The Massachusetts Colony," 
their charter granted March 19, 1627-8, by the Royal Coun- 
cil, fixed their boundary as all of that " part of New Eng- 
land, in America, which lyes and extends between a great 
river there commonly called ' Monoack' alias 'Meremack,' 
& a certain other river called Charles river, being in the 
bottom of a certain bay here commonly called Massachu- 
setts bay & also all and singular those lands and heredita- 
ments whatsoever lying within the space of three English 
miles on the south part of said Charles River, &c. And 
also all & singular the lands and hereditaments whatsoever 
which lye, & be within the space of three English miles to 
the Northward of said river called ' Monomack,' alias 
' Merrymack,' or to the northward of any and every part 
thereof : And all lands &c lying within the limit aforesaid 
from the Atlantic Ocean to the South Sea." 

Vague and imperfect as this boundary must appear to 
the careful reader, it proved too misleading to safeguard the 
interests of the colonists settled in the territory named, and 
for many years the boundary line was a " bone of conten- 
tion" between certain factions that came into existence in 
the provinces. It was taken for granted at this period that 
the Merrimack came from the west its entire course. 

Among the immigrants attracted to the new country 
only ten years after the beginning of the colonization was a 

r<cf> / a% 


little company of farmers, smiths, carpenters, and weavers, 
counting sixty families, who came from Western England in 
1637, and builded a cluster of homes in Rowley, Mass. 
While the husbandmen busied themselves about their 
clearings in the wilderness, the smiths and carpenters 
erected a mill, and here the weavers wove the first cotton 
cloth in the colonies. 

As early as this the colonists began to complain that 
they were "straitened for want of land." Hubbard, the 
historian of those times, says that Ipswich was so overrun 
with people that they swarmed to other places. Out of the 
demand for " further farms" came an order from the Massa- 
chusetts courts in 1638 to explore the Merrimack River to 
its source, supposed to have been fixed by the charter given 
the company. This, the first survey of the Merrimack 
River, was made by a man named Woodward, with four 
companions, one of whom was an Indian, and another a 
youth of fifteen, who was the author of the first map of the 
region explored in the autumn of 1638. The young map- 
maker was named John Gardner, and the brave little party 
which he accompanied penetrated the trackless wilderness 
of the Merrimack valley nearly as far as Lake Winnepesau- 
kee. Upon this survey were based the calculations of that 
better known and more permanent work performed by a 
commission appointed by the Massachusetts courts in 1652. 
This was composed of Captain Symon Willard and Captain 
Edward Johnson, both men of prominence in those days, 
the latter being the author of " Wonder Working Provi- 
dence of Zion's Savior in New England." These commis- 
sioners selected as assistants, Jonathan Ince, a graduate of 
Harvard College only two years before, and John Sherman, 
a surveyor of note, and great-grandfather of Roger Sher- 
man, one of the signers of the Declaration of Indepen- 
dence. While there is a doubt expressed as to whether the 
first commission really reached the headwaters of the Merri- 
mack, and its bounds were only claimed to have been 



marked by a spotted tree, Captain Willard's party left a very 
substantial monument of their work in what has become 
known as "Endicott Rock," which stands at the Weirs, in 
the town of Laconia, preserved and protected by a special 
appropriation from the state of New Hampshire. 

Upon reaching the forks of the Pemigewassett and 
Winnepesaukee rivers, which unite their offerings brought 
from mountain and lake to form the Merrimack, the com- 
missioners were doubtful as to the true stream for them to 
follow. They referred the matter to the Indians, who de- 
clared that the real Merrimack was the easterly branch 
flowing from " the beautiful lake of the highlands." If this 
was the conclusion of the aboriginal inhabitants of the 
country, the westerly fork is none the less deserving of de- 
scription, and certainly has a good claim to being considered 
a part of the main river. Its source is a sheet of crystal 
water springing from the heart of the White Hills, far up 
on the eastern slope of what is still an unexplored wilder- 
ness. Running around natural barriers strewn along its 
pathway by a prodigal hand, this mountain rivulet pursues 
its lonely course for a few miles, when it is joined by 
another stream, which is also the outlet of a beautiful lake- 
let. Now one this happy twain leap cascades, dash around 
boulders, loiter in cool retreats, overhung by leafy bowers, 
fit retreats for the naiads of the forest fastness, receiving 
tributary after tributary until it has increased in volume 
and becomes dignified by the name of " river." For forty 
miles it flows through massive gateways, shut in by moun- 
tain walls that lift high their granite fronts in a country 
wild and picturesque almost beyond the power of descrip- 
tion, when, at the foot of the famous Franconia Notch, it 
suddenly bursts into sunlight and into the world dazzled and 

{To be continued.) 


Statue in Edson Cemetery, Lowell, Mass. 



Granite ^tate Ctooftrees! 

By Fred Myron Colby. 

JEW Hampshire has her share of old-time mansions 
— the homes of her great and mighty ones of the 
Pm£% past, and some of them can compare favorably with 
the historic homes of other states, Massachusetts, New 
York or the Old Dominion. They do not obtrude them- 
selves, however ; they seem to retire, as it were, beneath 
the boughs of their ancestral trees, dreading, like Hamlet, 
to be "too much I, the sun." Some of them have to be 
carefully sought for, but once found they reward the visitor 
with noble and suggestive pictures of the past. Every 
stone is a memorial ; around every timber lingers a legend. 
Could the old walls speak, they would tell us what the 
founders and fathers of our State said and did ; we would 
live again in the great days — those almost forgotten ages of 
the Colonial regime, of the Revolution and of the Forma- 
tive Era of our Commonwealth. 

They are not all " stately homes," but there is an air of 
grandeur and dignity about even the humblest of them that 
impresses one. In many of the towns of the southern and 
middle portions of our state can be found one or more of 
these old roof trees — the home of an early Governor, a 
Councillor, Member of Congress, General or Colonel of the 
old State Militia, the " Squire," or leading man of the town, 
that title meaning something then and carrying a prestige 
with it Some of them are in a sad condition of neglect 
and decay, but the larger number of them are well pre- 
served and bear their weight of years with an air of 
majesty that wins the respect of every passer by. For the 
time being we will glance at several of the grander and 
more historic of these mansions whose history is a part of 




the state in which we live, and of whose story New Hamp- 
shire may well be proud. 

Portsmouth and Exeter were the earliest settled 
colonies of our State, and were the seats of government 
through Colonial and Revolutionary times. At these places 
we look to find some of these grand old rooftrees, and we 
are not disappointed. There is Went worth House at Little 
Harbor, two miles out from Portsmouth, famous in song 
and story, the seat of Governor Penning Wentworth for 
many years before the Revolution. It is a strange, ram- 
bling old mansion, with many rooms, several of which still 
show their former magnificence. The former "Council 
Room" is especially well preserved, and breathes of the ele- 
gance of that long vanished time. 

*• Baronial and colonial in its style ; 
Gables and dormer windows everywhere, 
And stacks of chimneys rising high in air," 

the house is one of the show places of Portsmouth. The 
same carpet is still on the floor of the parlor on which the 
Governor and Martha Hilton stood when they were married 
almost a century and a half ago. 

Another of these old houses is a dream of Colonial 
beauty. It is almost indescribable in its charm. Back of 
it lies a large, old-fashioned garden, rows upon rows of 
beautiful flowers, stately trees and fruits of every variety. 
It is terraced, and daily the pigeons come there to be fed. 
On one side of the house is an immense horse chestnut 
tree, which was planted by General William Whipple, one 
of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. This 
stately mansion was his residence, and several mementos of 
the statesman and patriot are still preserved in the house. 

On State Street, near by, is another Wentworth man- 
sion in good repair, the old home of Sir John Wentworth, 
the last of the royal governors, and whose marriage with 
his cousin, Frances Wentworth Atkinson, was almost as 
romantic and famous as that of his uncle Benning. This 


house has also a fine garden that leads down to the river, 
and the ancient wharf is shown from which the governor 
embarked by boat to escape from the angry townsmen on 
that long ago April night at the beginning of the Revolu- 
tion. Within the grandly dadoed rooms are portraits of the 
Wentworths in their Colonial majesty, some of them by 

The Governor Langdon house on Pleasant Street, and 
the Warner house on Daniel Street, home of the royal 
Councillors, Daniel and Jonathan Warner, are excellent 
specimens of the stately Colonial mansion. Both are in fine 
keeping and contain portraits and relics of their former 
owners. The roof of the Langdon house has sheltered 
royalty, for here Louis Philippe, when Duke of Orleans, 
and the courtly Talleyrand, both fugitives from the Reign 
. of Terror, were entertained as guests by the hospitable 
Langdon. The parlor of this house is especially fine. The 
Warner house has the air of the old regime more than any 
other house in Portsmouth. Its magnificently wainscoted 
rooms are lined with family portraits, courtly men and 
beautiful women, done by Copley and worth their weight in 

At Exeter, on Water Street, is the Ladd-Gilman 
house, the home of Captain Nicholas Gilman, who managed 
the finances of New Hampshire through the Revolu- 
tionary period, and later the home of his still more distin- 
guished son, Governor John Taylor Gilman, who has the 
honor of being the chief magistrate of the state for a 
longer period than any other man. Not far away is the 
grand old mansion of Colonel Peter Gilman, one of the 
magnificoes of the late Colonial period. The interior is 
little changed from the days when it was the meeting place 
of the leading and most distinguished men of the Province 
during the reign of George the Third. 

In the near-by town of Hampton Falls, not far from 
the village square where stands a fine soldiers' monument, 


is an old rooftree that has sheltered more famous men per- 
haps than any other in New Hampshire, the home of 
Governor Meshech Weare. It was an old house when he 
lived in it, and he has been dead one hundred and twenty 
years. Weare was Governor of the State all through the 
Revolutionary contest, and all the leading men of New 
Hampshire assembled at his home more than once to de- 
vise methods of raising men and funds to carry on the pro- 
longed contest with Great Britain. Washington was there 
once to consult with the Governor, and the chamber is 
shown with the same bed in which the pater patriae is said 
to have slept. 

Concord, on the Merrimack, boasts of two ancient roof- 
trees famous in the annals of the State. These are the 
Judge Walker house and the Rolfe-Rumford house. The 
former is still in possession of the family, and has sheltered 
five generations of the Walkers. Built about the time that 
the Mount Vernon mansion was on the Potomac, it can 
boast of over a century and a half of life. It was the home 
for many years of " Parson Walker," the first settled minis- 
ter of Concord, and afterwards of his son, Judge Walker, 
who was several times a candidate of the Republicans for 
Governor of the State. The house has been somewhat 
modernized within a few years and compares favorably with 
any of the costly residences of the capital city. A number 
of aged and stately elms shelter the mansion with their pro- 
tecting branches. 

Virginia has been termed the " Mother of Presidents," 
but New Hampshire has produced but one chief magistrate 
of the United States. In the town of Hillsborough can 
still be seen in excellent repair, the birthplace of Franklin 
Pierce, which was at the same time the home of his father, 
Governor Benjamin Pierce, and also the mansion which 
President Pierce occupied for a time as a residence, now 
the home of a nephew, Kirk D. Pierce, Esq. Both houses 
are good types of the old-fashioned, commodious, hos- 


pitable farm house, many of which are scattered up and 
down our valleys and hillsides. 

In Dunbarton is the Stark place, a grand old manor 
house built by Colonel Caleb Stark, a son of General John 
Stark, and occupied at present by a descendant, Charles F. 
M. Stark. The house is venerable with one hundred and 
twenty-five years, and with its gambrel roof, its twelve dor- 
mer windows and huge chimneys has a picturesque and 
stately air. Lafayette was entertained here in 1825. The 
aspect of the house and the garden back of it suggest the 

" A brave old house, a garden full of bees, — 
Large drooping poppies and green hollyhocks, 
With butterflies for crowns, true peonies, 
And pinks and goldilocks." 

At Holderness, not an hour's ride from the State Nor- 
mal School in Plymouth, is the great house built by Hon. 
Samuel Livermore and where he lived in almost baronial 
style from 1775 until his death in 1803. It is a good type 
of those days of hospitable wealth, with high-pitched gam- 
breled roof, dormer windows, huge chimneys and commodi- 
ous rooms. Its builder was one of the great men of New 
Hampshire in the Revolutionary period, Attorney-General, 
delegate to the Colonial Congress, member of the Assem- 
bly, and United States Senator. He held more important 
offices than any other man of his generation in his State 
and intellectually was not surpassed by any of them. 

We have merely alluded to some of the more famous 
of these historic rooftrees. Perhaps in some future article 
or articles we will speak more in detail of others less distin- 
guished, but none the less gracious and venerable testi- 
monials of an age that is barely remembered to-day. 

Cfje ^ouse on tfje ^itt 

Inscribed to My Mother. 

By Eugene J. Hall. 


ROM the weather-worn house on the brow o' the hill 
We are dwellin' afar, in our manhood, to-day, 
«S$J^j? But we see the old gables an' hollyhocks still, 

^^ Ez they looked long ago, ere we wandered away; 
We can see the tall well-sweep that stan's by the door, 
An' the sunshine that gleams on the old oaken floor. 

We can hear the sharp creak o' the farm-gate again, 
An' the loud cacklin' hens in the gray barn near by, 

With its broad, saggin' floor, with its scaffolds o' grain, 
An' its rafters that once seemed to reach to the sky ; 

We behold the big beams, an' the " bottomless bay" 

Where the farm-boys once joyfully jumped on the hay. 

We can hear the low hum o' the hard-workin' bees 
At the'r toil in our father's old orchard once more, 

In the broad, tremblin' tops o' the bright-bloomin' trees, 
Ez they busily gather the'r sweet, winter-store ; 

An' the murmurin' brook, the delightful old horn, 

An' the cawin' black crows that 're pullin' the corn. 

We can see the low hog-pen, just over the way, 

An' the long, ruined shed by the side o' the road, 
Where the sleds in the summer were hidden away, 

Where the wagons an' plows in the winter were stowed ; 
An' the cider-mill down in the holler below, 

With a long, creakin' sweep for the old hoss to draw, 
Where we larned by the homely old tub long ago 

What a world o' sweet raptur' there wus in a straw ; 
From the cider-casks there, lyin' loosely around, 
More leaked from the bung-holes than dripped on the ground. 

We behold the bleak hillsides, still bris'lin' with rocks, 

Where the mountain streams murmured with musical sound, 



Where we hunted an' fished, where we chased the red fox 

With lazy old house-dog or loud-bavin' hound ; 
An' the cold, cheerless woods we delighted to tramp, 

Fur the shy, whirrin' patridge, in snow to our knees, 
Where, with neck-yoke an' pails, in the old sugar-camp, 

We gathered the sap from the tall maple trees ; 
An' the fields where our plows danced a furious jig 

Ez we wearily follered the furrer all day, 
Where we stumbled an' bounded o'er boulders so big 

That it took twenty oxen to draw 'em away ; 
Where we sowed, where we hoed, where we cradled an' mowed, 

Where we scattered the swaths that were heavy with dew, 
Where we tumbled, we pitched, an' behind the tall load 

The broken old bull-rake reluctantly drew. 
How we grasped the old sheepskin with feelin's of scorn, 

Ez we straddled the back o' the old sorrel mare, 
An' rode up an' down thro' the green rows o' corn, 

like a pin on a clo's-line, that sways in the air ; 
We can hear our stern fathers a scoldin' us still, 
Ez the careless old creatur' comes down on a hill. 

We are far from the home o' our boyhood to-day, 

In the battle o' life we are strugglin' alone ; 
The weather-worn farm-house hez gone to decay, 

The chimbley hez fallen, its swallers hev flown, 
Yet memory brings, on her beautiful wings, 

Her fanciful pictur's again from the past, 
An' lovinly, fondly, an' tenderly clings 

To pleasur's an' pastimes too lovely to last.' 
We wander again by the river to-day, 

We sit in the school-room, o'erflowing with fun, 
We whisper, we play, an' we scamper away 

When the lessons are lamed an' the spellin'isdone. 
We see the old cellar where apples were kept, 

The garret where all the old rubbish wus thrown, 
The leetle back chamber where snugly we slept, 

The homely old kitchen, the broad hearth o' stone 
Where apples were roasted in menny a row, 
Where our gran'mothers nodded an' knit long ago. 

Our gran'mothers long hev reposed in the tomb,— 

With a strong, healthy race they hev peopled the land, 

They worked with the spindle, they toiled at the loom, 
Nor lazily brought up the'r babies by hand. 




The old flint-lock musket, whose awful recoil 

Made many a Nimrod with agony cry, 
Once hung on thechimbley, a part o' the spoil 

Our gallyant old gran'fathers captur'd at " Ti," — 
Brave men were our gran'fathers, sturdy an' strong, 

The kings o' the forest they chopped from the'r lands, 
They were stern in the'r virtu's, they hated all wrong, 

An' they fought fur the right with the'r hearts an' the'r hands ; 
Down, down from the hillsides they swept in the'r might, 

An' up from the hollers they went on the'r way, 
To fight an' to fall upon Hubbardton's height, 

To struggle an' conquer in Bennin'ton's fray 
O ! fresh be the'r memory, cherished the sod 

That long hez grown green o'er the'r sacred remains, 
An' grateful our hearts to a generous God 

Fur the blood an' the spirit that flows in our veins. 

Our Aliens, our Starks, an' our Warners 're gone, 

But our mountains remain with the'r evergreen crown ; 

The souls o' our heroes 're yet marchin' on, — 

The structur's they founded shall never go down. 

From the weather-worn house on the brow o' the hill 
We are dwellin' afar, in our manhood, to-day ; 

But we see the old gables an' hollyhocks still, 

Ez they looked when we left 'em to wander away. 

But the ones that we loved, in the sweet long-ago, 

In the old village churchyard sleep under the snow. 

Farewell to the friends o' our bright boyhood days, 
To the beautiful vales once delightful to roam, 

To the fathers, the mothers, now gone from our gaze, 
From the weather-worn house to the'r heavenly home, 

Where they wait, where they watch, an' will welcome us still, 

Ez they waited an' watched in the house on the hill. 


Cfje ^toeet 2£p anb 2£j> 



Story of the Author. 

By J. Warren Thyng. 

HE house in which Joseph P. Webster, author of 

"The Sweet By and By," was born, in the year 

1820, was about four miles distant from Manchester 

and situated near the shore of Lake Massabesic. Caesar's 

beach is almost directly in front of the location, and the site 

of the old Island Pond house is near by. 

The home of the Webster family was, as the picture 
shows, a small, one-story cottage built much after the 
fashion of the houses of pioneer farmers of those days. 

The old homestead — long since gone — looked out upon 
a scene of beauty. The lake, dimpled by the summer 
breeze, lay for miles before it ; far beyond the distance was 
outlined by blue hills, while within a bow-shot of the door 
swept the long, graceful crescent of Caesar's beach, and 
yet nearer still a group of tall sentinel pines rose and like 
the pipes of a great organ were stirred to solemn sound by 
the wind. 

The farm was small, and the income derived from its 
cultivation slender; indeed so much so that the young 
musician early realized that he must begin the battle of life 
with heroic endeavor. 

But he came of strong ancestry. The family record 
traces the line away back to rare old John Webster of Ips- 
wich, Massachusetts, as long ago as 1640. Then there was 
Major Webster of Revolutionary fame. And now comes 
into the line the blood of the Hugenots. The beautiful 
Bethia de Costa, whose father was a runaway boy picked up 
at Valley Forge by Colonel John Goffe. 



Born at a time when constant struggle was necessary 
to existence, Joseph was compelled from early boyhood to 
be self dependent. There is something in such an environ- 
ment that develops greatness. Long before he saw the di- 
rection in which lay the path to larger opportunity he be- 
came master of the flute and fife. 

At the age of 15 he worked for his board and sixpence 
a day. A small sum saved from his slender income first 
placed him in the way of beginning a musical education, and 
the instruction derived from thirteen nights' attendance at a 
country singing school made up the outfit with which he 
began his musical career. He progressed rapidly, and in a 
year's time was capable of reading at sight music for voice 
or instrument. His first singing-school was successful, and 
he might have been seen making his way on foot along the 
lakeside road, an old bass-viol on his shoulder, facing the 
sharp winter wind that blew across the lake. He was 
reckoned as in some manner different from other teachers 
of psalmody. A peculiar faculty for imparting knowledge 
won pupils and friends. 

With money earned by teaching singing-school evenings 
he paid expenses while attending Pembroke academy 
— that alma mater of many distinguished men. Here his 
love of military drill had opportunity for improvement, and- 
so when the War of the Rebellion broke out Webster was 
considered one of the best drill masters in the state. 

At about the age of 21 he was in Boston, a pupil of the 
best teachers to be found at that day. Up to this time he 
used to say he had not seen a piano. He lived in Boston 
three years, teaching and being taught. It was a real 
battle against want, says my informant. 

In 1843, Mr. Webster went to New York, where he 
formed a business relation with Bernard Covert with whom 
he gave a series of concerts both in the city and through- 
out the state. The New York experience was followed by 
six years of varying success in Connecticut. 





About this time an attack of bronchitis resulted in loss 
of voice to such an extent that he was obliged to give up 
singing in public. This seeming misfortune, however, 
proved to be, in a measure, a blessing in disguise for it 
drove him to composition, the direction in which his pecu- 
liar genius lay. 

He wrote most of the music for the " Euphonians," a 
musical organization even now remembered in some parts of 
New England. 


Up. to this time Mr. Webster had published no music. 
The first publishers to bring his work before the public 
were Firth, Pond & Co., of New York. Then Oliver Dit- 
son, a little later, brought out the song, " There's a Change 
in Things I Love." It will be noticed that there is a touch 
of melancholy in the piece that thus early in life shadowed 
forth the despondency of his nature. 

The public soon felt the magic of his genius, and for- 
tune began to smile upon the composer. Failing health, 
however, now compelled him to seek a warmer climate, and 


consequently the years from 1850 to 1855 were passed in 
the South. 

Madison, Indiana, a quarter of a century ago, was a 
thrifty and beautiful village on the banks of the Ohio. Its 
citizens were mostly wealthy and aristocratic, and it was in 
this cultured musical circle that Mr. Webster found favor 
and abundant patronage. He numbered among his friends 
the Crittendens, Hendricks, Joneses and Brights. 

It was while living in southern Indiana that the agita- 
tion preceding the War of the Rebellion was highest, and 
extremely bitter in that section. Mr. Webster's sentiments 
were with the North, and his sympathy for the negro was 
freely expressed. On this account he was soon aware that 
it would ere long be more congenial for him further north. 
Accordingly, we next find him in Racine, Wisconsin, and 
later in Elkhorn. 

The war was now begun and he hastened to volunteer. 
Being very near-sighted he was rejected by the mustering 
officer ; this, writes his son, was one of the disappointing 
incidents of his life. Offering his services as drill-master 
he was accepted, but he refused renumeration. As an illus- 
tration of Mr. Webster's patriotism it may be mentioned 
that when the War Governor of Wisconsin offered him 
rank and pay of an officer he declined in the following 
characteristic reply noted on the back of the Governor's 
letter : " I will not take the pay if I do not share the 
dangers of the service." 

It was during this period that Mr. Webster produced 
some of the most stirring war songs. Often the patriotic 
composer sat late into the night, his genius fired by the 
thought that the morrow's bugle note might be inspired by 
the touch of his pen. 

About this time the music for "Lorena," was pro- 
duced, and it is a singular fact that while its author was de- 
voted to the cause of the Union, this ballad became a favo- 
rite camp-fire song in the Southern army. It is a strangely 
plaintive air, touching, in some passages, closely upon the 





finest possibilities of tone when providing a medium for the 
expression of sentiment. There is a sort of hypnotic spell to 
the air as it moves through the lines — especially the first 
four lines of each stanza : 

a The years creep slowly by, Lorena, 

The snow is on the grass again — 

The sun's low down the sky, Lorena, 

The frost gleams where the flowers have been." 


War time inspirations of brush and pen have always 
taken a strong hold. Willards' painting, " Yankee Doodle," 
created almost as much enthusiasm as did the tune; Colonel 
Haynes' poem, "Our Famous Quartette," found a permanent 
place in the literature of our state. 

At the close of the war Webster wrote a patriotic 
drama, of which, however, little is now known. 

From 1865 to 1868 were composed many of his most 
popular songs. "The Sweet By and By" appeared in 1868. 
Following are the words of the original composition : 


"There's a land that is fairer than day, 

And by faith we can see it afar, 
For the Father waits over the way 

To prepare us a dwelling place there. 


"In the sweet by and by 
We shall meet on that beautiful shore ; 

In the sweet by and by 
We shall meet on that beautiful shore. 

"We shall sing on that beautiful shore 

The melodious songs of the blest. 
And our spirits shall sorrow no more — 

Nor sigh for the blessing of rest. 

"To our bountiful Father above, 

We will offer the tribute of praise, 
For the glorious gift of His love, 

And the blessings that hallow our days." 

The question has been raised, did Webster write the 
words, as well as compose the music of this song? One or 
two claimants for the authorship have appeared. I have 
taken some pains to investigate, and am satisfied that 
Joseph P. Webster wrote both words and music of " The 
Sweet By and By." 


Looking back through about all of his published works, 
the very same peculiar and unmistakable personality per- 
vades them all, from beginning to end. Take any piece you 
please to the piano, and you shall find the same nameless 
sweetness running through it. The genius or talent of no 
two men — by the very reason of its being genius — can flow 
in lines so nearly parallel. 

To be sure there is really nothing original in the senti- 
ment. It is only the putting together in this form the hope 
of men ever since the Master suffered on Calvary. 

Take the song "'Twill Be Summer By and By," written 
in 1855. (" Sweet By and By" was composed three years 
later.) The same spirit actuates both. 

"Cold and cruel is the judgment of man — 

Cruel as winter and cold as the snow, 
But, by and by, will the deed and the plan 

Be judged by the motive that lieth below." 

Again, in " Summer Sweets Shall Bloom Again," ob- 
serve the parallel sentiment and even words : 

" Summer's fragrant rose shall blow 

Sweeter in the early year ; 
And the joys of long ago 

By and by shall reappear." 

If the framework of the words is by different men, the 
hand of the master genius has refitted all. 

If Webster was despondent by nature, there appears 
no unwholesome whining. He may have suffered from 
crude criticism — it is only brazen mediocrity that does not. 
In the days of his youth he lived much out-of-doors by the 
beautiful lake ; saw the sunshine touch its waves ; saw dawn 
and sunset paint the hills, and moonlight float its silvery veil 
afar; heard the ripple of the moving waters upon the 
beach and ever the music of the pines. Here present to 
eye and ear were motives for brightest endeavor. 



Not to the musician alone, but to the painter these 
scenes should appeal. It is incomprehensible to me why 
some artists sit in the house and paint skillets and fried eggs 
and empty Schnapps bottles when this lake is so near. 

I am not able to give a complete list of Joseph Web- 
ster's works, but prominent among them are the following : 
" My Margaret," " Come to Me, Memories Olden," "Lost 
Lomie Lane," "The Golden Stair," "Under the Beautiful 
Stars," " Sounds of the Sea," "The Vine Wreathed Cot- 
tage," " Dawning of the Better Day." 

Mr. Webster had a striking personality. In figure he 
was tall, erect and spare ; his auburn hair hung in wavy 
masses upon his broad shoulders ; his forehead was high, 
his eyes deep-set and eye-brows heavy ; these with a 
slightly Roman nose and long, gray beard made a face and 
bearing full of character. In manner he was dignified, kind 
and obliging. He had unbounded trust in human nature — 
large-hearted generosity and good-will to men.. He was not 
rich. He might have been had that been his aim. 

The author of " The Sweet By and By" rests in a dis- 
tant state. There is no monument above him ; only the 
earth, the grass and the wild flowers. That is the way he 
wished it to be. 

His time came on January 18, 1875. As he passed be- 
yond, those standing by saw 

*« The light of two worlds upon his face — 
Evening and morning peace." 

' The Husking Bee. 

By The Nestor of the Farms. 

My thoughts go back to the rosy prime, 

And memory paints anew the scenes, 
Afar in the bleak New England clime, 

Though half a century intervenes. 

— Anon. 

p^w HUSKING BEE in the days now grown gray in 
^f^h memory was an annual event among the farmers 
^^S^4 °f th e Granite State that generally lasted in the 
anticipation, the realization, and the retrospection about 
three months, unless something unusual and startling oc- 
curred to break in upon the routine of everyday life. In 
those times the farmers raised their broad acres of corn, 
and few indeed were the bushels that came in from the 
"Golden West." If "all things change and we change 
with them," happily the memory is not susceptible to this 
unwritten law, and the recollection of the oldtimer remains 
unchanged and unchangeable so long as Mind asserts its 

Among the treasured properties of the Nestor of the 
Farms is a vivid memory painting of a husking bee — 
and though the picture of one stands for many others. 
This one, to be described, came off at the home of a 
thrifty farmer in a community, which for obvious rea- 
sons shall be nameless, whose everyday name was " Squire 
Oddby." As well as being one of the largest corn 
growers in the town, he had made it a custom, in which he 
was simply following the example of his father, to have a 
husking bee each year upon the 20th of October, except 
when that date happened to fall on Sunday, in which case 



the affair took place a day earlier. As, has already been 
hinted, these gatherings were expected with even greater 
regularity than the equinoctual storms of the month be- 
fore. The boys who assisted the worthy farmer in his 
planting, anticipating the happy occasion, never failed to 
place in the hills on the sly, though I never knew any valid 
reason for their secrecy, as the master never seemed to dis- 
prove of it, a few highly colored kernels of grain among the 
"yellow jackets." Possibly they would have hung their 
heads with apparent shame had they been questioned in re- 
gard to their motives, though their purpose was honest and 
praiseworthy, for no husking bee could have been a com- 
plete success without the girls, and the girls could* not have 
fulfilled half of their mission without the red-kerneled corn. 

Leaving the settlement of such problems to those who 
may be wiser, if younger, the weather upon the occasion to 
be described was most auspicious. 

The moon, nearing its full, rose over the distant hills 
a little ahead of the first arrival at the farmhouse, or rather 
barn. This homestead of Squire Oddby's, which had been 
in the family for three generations, was a typical New Eng- 
land farm side of half a century ago. The house was a 
story in height, with a wide roof, and a huge chimney in 
the centre. The walls had been originally painted red, but 
sun and storm had bleached even this tenacious coloring so 
it showed only in streaks now alternated with that dull-gray 
which comes from weather-beaten wood. The front door, 
a stranger alike to bell or knocker, was overhung by a 
trailing woodbine, which at this season appeared in the ze- 
nith of its gauze-like glory. The deep yard running down 
the slope toward the road, was littered here and there with 
scattered remains of the winter wood-pile, some big sticks 
that had proved too stubborn for the woodman's axe, a 
broken-down ox-wagon, a hay-rick which had served its 
summer term of usefulness and was now awaiting another 
season and another series of mending, when it should re- 



turn to the hay-field creaking and staggering under its bulky 
load of freshly cured fodder for the winter-feeding, with 
other articles too numerous to mention, not to speak of a 
good-sized boulder near the driveway. This stone pre- 
sented an appearance somewhat resembling a big pin- 
cushion with its contents protruding from its sides, the pins 
and needles in this case being certain wooden prys and 
levers, that had been utilized in vain efforts to raise the ob- 
stacle from its primeval bed and been left reclining on their 
supports at an angle of forty-five degrees or leaning against 
the rock. The condition of these instruments of labor 
showed that several years had intervened since the last at- 
tempt had been made to remove the boulder, but they had 
been suffered to remain uncouth reminders of man's futile 

On the farther side of the yard the housewife, with an 
appreciation of the beautiful and fragrant, had planted a 
bed of flowers in the spring, but as the season came on 
apace she found her household duties crowding so heavily 
upon her as not to allow even a few minutes between the 
light of day and the lamp of evening to be devoted to a 
task so pleasant, and the pinks, marigolds, daisies and morn- 
ing glories soon became overpowered and strangled by 
weeds and grass that demanded no special care to foster 
their growth. 

A prominent feature of this yard was an ancient balm- 
of-gilead tree, whose bald and shattered top denoted its ex- 
treme old age. This patriarch was said to have been the 
growth of a little twig set in the ground by the original 
settler of the lot. Be that as it may, the tree was looked 
upon as an old member of the family, a sort of grand- 
mother, whose leaves had they been tongues might have 
told an interesting and pathetic tale of bygone days. 

Down across the road an old-style well-sweep, creaking 
dismally with each gust of wind, overhung a well where for 
four generations the occupants of the dwelling within sight 
had come to seek the crystal treasures it afforded. 


A long, rambling-sort of shed ran away from the east 
end of the house, which expression may be taken literally 
to a considerable extent, as the structure had actually 
broken away from the main building so a wide rent sepa- 
rated the two. Some rods below this stood the old- 
fashioned country barn, innocent alike of paint or clap- 
boards, with long, wide cracks in its walls, through which 
the snows of winter sifted in while the wind played hide 
and seek where it was not checked by some obstruction 
within. It was the longest barn in town, being over one 
hundred feet in length, consisting of nine joints or sections 
of twelve feet each. Built before modern ideas of conveni- 
ence was familiar to carpenters, instead of having one floor 
running lengthwise it had three crossing it. There was no 
cellar, except at the east end where the ground fell away 
so as to allow an opening where sleds and wagons were 
stored when not in use. The eaves were lined with swal- 
low's nests, empty now until another season should bring 
the feathered inhabitants back to their summer homes. 
Inside were other nests of their cousins, the barn swallows, 
built skilfully against purlin and rafter festooned with cob- 

It had been a favorable season for hay on the farm of 
Squire Oddby, so the bays and scaffolds were filled to the 
beams with newly-harvested crops, while the floors were 
filled with the products of the corn-field thrown promiscu- 
ously along in huge winrows on one side of the floor. The 
other had been carefully cleared for a space wide enough to 
allow a row of benches for the huskers to sit upon while 
they tore off the rough jackets of the yellow grain. 

It was barely growing dusky in the orchard below the 
house when the first of the expected huskers appeared, 
climbing with laborious step the hill leading to the farm- 
buildings. He was Mr. Hungerford, who was looking long- 
ingly forward to the appetizing supper the Squire's folks 
were noted for giving, and willing to fill in the interval of 



waiting by a pretence of work. Next to him, puffing and 
blowing like a porpoise from his exertions, came Job Rams- 
bottom, who lived alone under the hill, and who could not 
be blamed if he, too, had a conscious leaning toward the 
expected pork and beans, to say nothing of the pumpkin 
pies that stood in the shed hallway cooling off, looking for 
all the world like so many huge pieces of gold. The third 
on hand was 'Lish Whittle; who had actually left home im- 
mediately after dinner in order to get a good seat on the 
husking bench, let him tell it. He came with a cane, like- 
wise with lips dry for good old cider and an appetite for 
corn bread, beans, and pumpkin pies. And now they began 
to come in twos and threes, and directly in larger squads. 

Not all of the comers were of the sterner sex by any 
means, for the invitation was not confined to them, as there 
were women, and rosy-cheeked country girls, vivacious as 
well as pretty. Some of the women had come to assist the 
good house-wife at her work in preparing the supper, while 
the rest, including all of the younger ones, lent their com- 
panionship and good-cheer to the busy workers in the barn. 

A few old men had come who were too feeble to work, 
and these were given corners and quiet places either in the 
house or in the barn, where they could beguile away the 
time until supper listening to the talk of others, or joining 
themselves in some of the reminiscences of their younger 
years. One of this group was old Captain Century, the 
hero of three wars, hale and hearty for one of his age, 
though nearly blind, his remaining ambition now being to 
live to one hundred years so he might be " twice a century." 

Two others were among these invited guests, and no 
husking bee in Sunset would have been considered a suc- 
cess without them. These were Homer Bland, the blind 
bard, and Bige Little, the fat and jolly pack-peddler, who 
occupied the space taken by any two ordinary persons on 
the bench without husking more than the stint of one. 
The sightless musician was given a seat at one side where 


he might enliven the work of the others with his songs and 

A little after it was dark the long benches in all of the 
floors were packed with willing workers, who, seen in the 
glimmering light of the lanterns hung in rows from hay- 
forks stuck in the hay-mow and looked like phantom figures 
worked by an invisible stringing as they moved back and 
forth in their tasks. As the corn after it was husked had 
to be carried in baskets into the garret of the house, several 
of the stoutest men and boys were delegated to this part of 
the evening's undertaking. 

Soon after the blind singer had struck his first note, 
which was a signal for the huskers to begin. Above the 
hum of many voices pitched at different keys, could be 
heard at frequent intervals a loud, boisterous tone, exclaim- 
ing: "Haw-haw-haw! that's a good joke, 'Lisha, tell us 
another. Somehow it limbers up the husks, an' sort of puts 
life into one's hands like ol' cider." 

•* Remember th' time, Biger," replied the other, " we 
sot daown to th' Squire's dinner an' eat three heaping 
plates of beans, to say nothing of th' trimmin's, sich as 
three punkin pies, a loaf of 'lasses ginger bread, a loaf of 
johnny cake and a pan of doughnuts ? " 

u Nor the three mugs of ol' cider that washed it down, 
haw-haw-haw ! But that weren't a carcumstance to ol' 
Pancake Knowles, who swallowed pancakes for four hours 
as fast as Marm Durborn, with three gals a helpin' her, 
could cook 'em, haw-haw-haw ! 'Member that time, ol' 
man ? " nudging his companion on his left, who nodded ap- 
proval, and then as if he had forgotten some duty suddenly 
quit his husking and pulling a jack-knife from one of his 
pockets began to whittle industriously upon a corn-stalk, 
seeming oblivious the rest of the evening to what was 
going on around him. 

" 'Em was good oF times, eh, 'Lisha ? " resumed Bige, 
kicking the loose fodder from under his feet. " Th' fust 

X 698882 


squire was on'arth then, and the new squire hadn't got into 
th' traces. I tell you 'em were good ol days. I uster to 
sell goods in 'em days, I did. Bless your soul, Marm 
Thompson, whose ol' man bought Pete Hungerford's farm 
for a song, took seventeen handkercheeves one right arter 
another, an' she a larfin' an' shoutin' at my stories, haw- 
haw-haw ! That same trip, or was it " 

A peal of girlish laughter rang out, and a buxom maid 
was seen to spring from the bench and dart furiously down 
the line of huskers followed by a sturdy youth whose feet 
were as swift if not as light as hers. 

"Ketch her, Abe !" shouted some one; "you can do 
it if you won't give up." 

" You can't !" called back the laughing girl, while she 
continued her flight. 

Flourishing over his head that unerring talisman of 
such occasions, an ear of red corn, good-natured Abe Good- 
will accepted the challenge, and sped rapidly in the foot- 
steps of the fair fugitive, whose taunting cries were drowned 
by the merry shouts of the huskers, all of whom had 
stopped work to watch the couple. Abe might have caught 
Meg in the early stage of the chase, but every one tried to 
trip him up as he rushed forward, and in other ways lent 
their assistance to the fugitive, as was usual at such times. 

"Abe '11 ketch her ! " declared Everybody's Sam, con- 
fidently. " My ! how I wish I was in his shoes ! " 

"You'd git a pair of boxed ears for your trouble, 
youngster," remarked a burly-formed, horny-handed man 
near by, who was none other than her father, Isaac Irons, 
the village smith, who was noted for his great strength. 
" I don't keer if Meg is my darter, she's got an arm that's 
a credit to the old man. Let 'em go it, they are like colts 
turned out to pasture." 

Meg Irons, upon reaching the side of the barn and 
finding that she could not open the door at the end of the 
floor, wheeled suddenly about, and with a scream of plea- 




sure, darted past her pursuer and so doubled upon her 
track, her cheeks looking uncommonly red. 

" Golly ! ain't got her yet, Abe ? haw-haw-haw !" 
roared Bige, until his fat sides shook and the tears rolled 
down his rotund cheeks. But the plucky Abe had not 
given up, and just as he came opposite the fat peddler he 
caught Meg about the waist. Pulling her head over upon 
his shoulder he gave her such a resounding thwack upon 
her lips that he was heard above the outbursts of the spec- 
tators. Nor was Abe satisfied with his lawful due, for he 
immediately attempted to repeat his attack, when Meg's 
plump hand fell across his mouth, sending him backward 
over the bench into the pile of husks behind. This upset 
a basket of corn, which fell upon Bige Little, sending him 
back into the fluffy mass almost out of sight. General 
confusion reigned, above the outcries being heard the half- 
smothered haw-haw-haws of the jolly peddler, as he rose 
like a mountain out of a fog-bank into sight. 

" Well done, lad ! well done, lass ! Puts me in mind 
of my young days afore I took on so much unaccountable 
counter-poise. Come, Homer ! ain't you got that fiddle 
into shape to gin us a song ? " 

** * Come, gie's a sang,' " Montgomery cried, 

And lay our disputes all aside ; 
What signifies 't for folks to chide 

For what was done before them ? " 

" Look out there, folks ! that lantern 's coming daown!" 
bawled out one of the onlookers. It was suddenly dis- 
covered that the fork stuck in the side of the mow as a 
support for the light had begun to take a downward slant^ 
so the lantern holding a piece of candle in a block of wood 
was slowly slipping down the inclined arm. One of those 
nearest, seeing the catastrophe likely to take place, sprang 
nimbly up the corn pile, and catching the lantern in one 
hand and the fork handle in the other, dexteously arranged 
the support so the light remained stationary. 












-" . -&: 

-. N * 


If tongues were busy so were hands, and by a quarter 
past nine o'clock the last ear was husked. The boys 
sprang up with loud cheers, dancing to and fro in glee, or 
catching each other in a rough and tumble squabble, while 
the older members of the party started slowly, but willing- 
ly, toward the house, it having been announced that supper 
would be ready by the time they could " wash and tidy up." 
The lanterns were taken down, some of them relieved of 
their lights, while others were used to brighten the way to 
the house. 

" Yaou 've done it well, boys," declared the Squire. 
" Naow come an' eat all the pork an' beans yaou can, with 
punkin pies thrown in for tally. Come all of yaou, for yaou 
hev 'arned yeour suppers." 

In all that crowd, which must have numbered more 
than fifty, no one hung back. As they entered in this de- 
monstrative manner the dwelling the fragrance of the warm 
supper greeted their nostrils, and two long tables running 
the length of the large dining room were seen, literally 
groaning under the load of food heaped upon them. There 
were foremost in the display huge platters of steaming 
beans just from the old-fashioned brick oven, flanked with 
tall loafs of smoking brown bread, and big dishes of pork, 
which had been browned and crisped on the upper side to a 
tempting nicety. There also were generous loaves of wheat 
bread, great pans heaped with pancakes and doughnuts, 
plates of ginger-bread sweetened with molasses, and last 
but not least, mince pies, apple pies, custard pies, and 
pumpkin pies without apparent limit. These last were 
made in deep tin plates, the bottom and sides covered with 
a crust, which had been cut large enough so that it could 
be rolled over the rim thus forming a ridge around the cir- 
cuit. The interior was then filled with the yellow fruit of 
the luscious melon, sweetened and seasoned as only one of 
those good old-fashioned cooks of the country farm-house 
could succeed in doing. Mrs. Reed, too, was noted for 


being one of the best in the town, and she always looked 
after these pies herself. Of course there were other dishes 
on the table, butter, cider apple-sauce, and so on, but these 
need not be mentioned, unless we except the big cup of hot 
coffee, that afforded the room a delicious aroma. 

The women were very busy giving the final touches to 
the tables, placing here a plate of doughnuts, there a pie, 
or slicing a loaf of bread that had been overlooked. No 
one was busier than the hostess herself, who was a sweet- 
faced, matronly woman of middle life, never seeming hap- 
pier than when superintending one of these harvest suppers 
for which she was noted. 

The men were already standing about the long, wooden 
sink that was supplied with water from a wooden pump, 
waiting their turns to wash and prepare for supper. Fifteen 
minutes later followed the clatter of knives and forks, and 
rattle of dishes, with the hum of voices. In the medley of 
sounds one could hear the clear tone of one busy worker 
expounding upon some wonderful feat he had performed in 
his earlier years, while at the opposite table Lish Whittle 
and Bige Little were just closing a wager as to which could 
eat the more and the longer. By the way they had begun 
their race it looked as if the housewife would have to begin 
to replenish her store at once. 

" I like beans without any 'lasses in 'em or unyuns — 
jess plain beans right from a hot oven," declared Mr. Little, 
helping himself to a heaping plate of his choice, the steam 
rising from them concealing for the time his eager, expect- 
ant countenance. 

" Give me a dash of 'lasses, a pinch o' mustard, an' a 
small unyun in mine," replied Mr. Whittle, likewise helping 
himself to an equal portion from another platter. " I notice 
too, there is a big difference in beans 'cordin to th' land 
they grow on, and th' kind, too. Yer pea-beans may do 
well for everyday eatin', but fer huskin's give me good ol' 
marrowfats. Pass me th' pork, Jerry ; an' you, Sam, might 


.'•K''' i-. v / « 


push along th* vinegar an' th' red pepper. A leetle spice 
sort o' 'livens up one's stumich, an' clears out th' head. 
Don't keer fer th' bread yet. Never eat it till I'm half 

" Pepper's half peas !" exclaimed Bige. " Heerd that 
joke way down in Maine — haw-haw-haw !" 

" Hoi' on, Bige Little!" cried the shrill voice of Belindy 
Betters at this moment " thet ain't 'lasses you air puttin' in 
your coffee. It's vinegar. Yeou don't drink vinegar in 
your coffee, do yeou?" 

A close observer might have seen a peculiar look on the 
round face of the peddler, but it was quickly chased away, 
while he replied with feigned fidelity to truth : 

*' Always, marm, always. 'Pears this ain't very stout." 

Before Miss Betters could give utterance to the amaze- 
ment on her lips, a wild, Indian-like whoop came from the 
other table, and one of its occupants was seen to leap from 
his seat and begin to dance a series of figures that would 
have done credit to a Pawnee chief. 

"Who's kilt neow ?" cried Belindy, in her fright letting 
the tray in her hands slip from her hold, thus sending a 
platter of pancakes rolling to the four quarters of the floor. 

" John Reed's swallowed a whole spoonful of horse- 
radish — thought it was beans !" shouted one of the younger 
members of the party. " Uncle Life give it to him." 

" Oh, my nose ! my nose ! it's cut off — help — help — save 
me !" leaping wildly to and fro, holding on to the besieged 
member with both hands. The spectators all stopped eat- 
ing, some shouting with laughter, while others merely 
smiled. Bige Little stopped in the midst of a discourse on 
the beauty of beans to roar " Haw-haw-haw !" 

How long this outburst might have lasted is not easy 
to forecast, had not the notes of a violin at this moment 
fell on the scene, and Homer Bland, who had not been per- 
suaded to sit down to the table with the others, began one 



of his songs. Then, amid a silence broken only at intervals 
by a click of some knife inadvertently striking a plate, he 
gave a song and half an hour later the supper was over and 
the latest husking bee at the Squire's a memory filled with 
reminiscences likely to last for a long time. 

Cfje Higfjt of Hotoe 

By George Waldo Browne. 

A thousand eyes are given Night, 
While the Day has only one; 

Yet swiftly dies the World's fair light 
At the setting of the sun. 

The mind is given a thousand eyes, 
While the heart has only one; 

Yet all the light of a lifetime dies, 
When the day of love is done. 

Wi)txt Pas&aconatoap Wa& Wont Co ^tanb 

By Cora C. Bass. 

Where Passaconaway was wont to stand, 
Piercing the distance with intrepid eye, 
The teeming mills their rhythmic shuttles ply, 

Many knelt subservient to the hand 

Of that good sachem of a noted band ; 
But labor, like a chieftain, leads us high, 
To fairer fields, where richer guerdons lie 

Than he aspired to win ; the bold demand 

Of Time is met by a triumphant throng 
Which presses onward, upward, evermore ; 

And cities in their children true as strong 

Live worthy the brave men who marched before, 

Speeding the hum of Industry's glad song 
O'er heights the noble red man trod of yore. 

W\)ttW$ J^arrattbe. 

An Account of Captain Thomas Wheeler's Expedition to 

Quabaug, now Brookfield, Mass., in 1675. With 

Notes by William Plumer, Jr., and others. 

A TRUE NARRATIVE of the Lord's Providences in various dispensa- 
tions towards Captain Edward Hutchinson of Boston and my self, 
and those that went with us into the Nipmuck* Country, and also to 
Quabaug, alias Brookfield : The said Captain Hutchinson having a 
Commission from the Honoured Council of this Colony to treat with 
several Sachems in those parts in order to the publick peace, and my 
self being also ordered by the said Council to accompany him with 
part of my troop for security from any danger that might be from the 
Indians : and to assist him in the transaction of matters committed to 

HE said Captain Hutchinson, f and myself, with 
■ , about twenty men or more marched from Cam- 
* <P bridge to Sudbury, July 28, 1675 J an ^ fr° m thence 
into the Nipmuck Country, and finding that the Indians 
had deserted their towns, and we having gone until we came 
within two miles of New Nonvitch, on July 31, (only we 
saw two Indians having an horse with them, whom we 
would have spoke with, but they fled from us and left their 
horse, which we took,) we then thought it not expedient to 
march any further that way, but set our march for Brook- 

* Nipmuck, from nif>e, " fresh water;" auke, " a place:" meaning in English " Indians 
about fresh water," was a common term applied by other tribes to the Amerinds in northern 
Massachusetts and lower New Hampshire. The whites naturally fell into the practice of 
calling the families who might be living about a certain locality by the name of that place. In 
this way the Indians of New England were divided into more tribes or clans than really lived 
there. For instance, those of the Merrimack valley really belonging to one family became 
known by as many as a dozen different names. — Editor. 

t [ Capt. Hutchinson had a very considerable farm in the Nipmug country, and had oc- 
casion to employ several of the Nipmug sachem's men in tilling and ploughing the ground, and 
thereby was known to the face of many of them. The sachems sent word that they would 


42 wheeler's narrative 

field, whither we came on the Lord's day about noon. 
From thence the same day, (being August i,) we under- 
standing that the Indians were about ten miles north west 
from us, we sent out four men to acquaint the Indians that 
we were not come to harm them, but our business was only 
to deliver a Message from our Honoured Governour and 
Council to them, and to receive their answer, we desiring to 
come to a Treaty of Peace with them, (though they had for 
several dayes fled from us,) they having before professed 
friendship, and promised fidelity to the English. When 
the messengers came to them they made an alarm, and 
gathered together about an hundred and fifty fighting men 
as near as they could judge. The young men amongst them 
were stout in their speeches, and surly in their carriage. 
But at length some of the chief Sachems promised to meet 
us on the next morning about 8 of the clock upon a plain 
within three miles of Brookfield, with which answer the 
messengers returned to us. Whereupon, though their 
speeches and carriage did much discourage divers of our 
company, yet we conceived that we had a cleer call to go to 
meet them at the place whither they had promised to come. 
Accordingly we with our men accompanied with three of 
the principal inhabitants of that town marched to the plain 
appointed ; but the treacherous heathen intending mis- 

speak with none butCapt. Hutchinson himself, and appointed a meeting at such a tree and 
such a time. The guide that conducted him and those that were with him through the woods, 
brought them to a swamp [ as stated in the Narrative ] not far off the appointed place, out of 
which those Indians ran all at once and killed sixteen [but 8, as in Narrative] men, and 
wounded several others, of which wounds Capt. Hutchinson afterwards died, whose death is 
the more lamented in that his mother and several others of his relations died by the hands of 
the Indians, now above 30 years since. Ms. Letter sent to London, dated Nov. 10, 1675, as 
quoted by Gov. Hutchinson, I, 266. 

Capt. Hutchinson belonged to Boston and had been one of its representatives, and con- 
siderably in publick life. He was a son of William and the celebrated Ann Hutchinson, and 
was brother-in-law to Major Thomas Savage, of Boston, who married Faith, the sister of 
Capt. H. He was the father of the Hon. Elisha Hutchinson, one of the Counsellors of 
Massachusetts, who died 10 December, 1717, aged 77. The last was father of Hon. Thomas 
Hutchinson, born 30 January, 1674; died 3 December, 1739, whose son, Gov. Thomas Hut- 
chinson, born 9 September, 171 1, was the celebrated historian of Massachusetts. I Savage's 
Winthrop, 246. It is a little singular that the Gov. should not have met with a Narrative so 
particular respecting the fate of his great ancestor.]— William Plumer, Jr. 

wheeler's narrative 43 

chief, (if they could have opportunity,) came not to the said 
place, and so failed our hopes of speaking with them there. 
Whereupon the said Captain Hutchinson and my self, with 
the rest of our company, considered what was best to be 
done, whether we should go any further towards them or 
return, divers of us apprehending much danger in case we 
did proceed, because the Indians kept not promise there 
with us. But the three men who belonged to Brookfield 
were so strongly perswaded of their freedome from any ill 
intentions towards us, (as upon other bounds, so especially 
because the greatest part of those Indians belonged to 
David, one of their chief Sachems, who was taken to be a 
great friend to the English :) that the said Captain Hutch- 
inson who was principally intrusted with the matter of 
Treaty with them, was thereby encouraged to proceed and 
march forward towards a Swampe where the Indians then 
were. When we came near the said swampe, the way was 
so very bad that we could march only in a single file, there 
being a very rocky hill on the right hand, and a thick 
swampe on the left. In which there were many of those 
cruel blood-thirsty heathen, who there way laid us, waiting 
an opportunity to cut us off ; there being also much brush 
on the side of the said hill, where they lay in ambush to sur- 
prize us.* When we had marched there about sixty or 
seventy rods, the said perfidious Indians sent out their shot 
upon us as a showre of haile, they being, (as was supposed,) 
about two hundred men or more. We seeing our selves so 
beset, and not having room to fight, endeavoured to fly for 
the safety of our lives. In which flight' we were in no small 
danger to be all cut off, there being a very miry swamp be- 

* [ It seems from a note in Hutchinson's History of Massachusetts, that the Indians took 
» prisoner of the name of George, a christian Indian, who afterwards reported that Philip and 
his company of about 40 men, besides women and children, joined the Nipmuck Indians in a 
»amp, tenor twelve miles from Brookfield on the 5th of August. " The In d ia ns told Philip, 
M his first coming, what they had done to the English at Quabaog: Then he presented and 
Cave to three sagamores, viz. John alias Apequinash; Quanansit, and Mawtamps, to each of 
them about a peck of unstrung wampum, which they accepted " Philip was conducted to the 
•wamp by two Indians, one of whom was Caleb of Tatumasket, beyond Mendon.] 

44 wheeler's narrative 

fore us, into which we could not enter with our horses to go 
forwards, and there being no safety in retreating the way 
we came, because many of our company, who lay behind 
the bushes, and had let us pass by them quietly ; when 
others had shot, they came out, and stopt our way back, so 
that we were forced as we could to get up the steep and 
rocky hill ; but the greater our danger was, the greater was 
God's mercy in the preservation of so many of us from sud- 
den destruction. My self being gone up part of the hill 
without any hurt, and perceiving some of my men to be 
fallen by the enemies' shot, I wheeled about upon the In- 
dians, not calling on my men who were left to accompany 
me, which they in all probability would have done had they 
known of my return upon the enemy. They firing violent- 
ly out of the swamp, and from behind the bushes on the 
hill side wounded me sorely, and shot my horse under me, 
so that he faultring and falling, I was forced to leave him, 
divers of the Indians being then but a few rods distant from 
me. My son Thomas Wheeler flying with the rest of the 
company, missed me amongst them, and fearing that I was 
either slain or much endangered, returned towards the 
swampe again, though he had then received a dangerous 
wound in the reins, where he saw me in the danger afore- 
said. Whereupon, he endeavoured to rescue me, shewing 
himself therein a loving and dutiful son, he adventuring 
himself into great peril of his life to help me in that dis- 
tress, there being many of the enemies about me, my son 
set me on his own horse, and so escaped a while on foot 
himself, until he caught an horse whose rider was slain, on 
which he mounted, and so through God's great mercy we 
both escaped. But in this attempt for my deliverance he 
received another dangerous wound by their shot in his left 
arm. There were then slain to our great grief eight men, 
viz. — Zechariah Philips of Boston, Timothy Farlow,* of 
Billericay, Edward Coleborn, of Chelmsford, Samuel Smed- 

[* Timothy Farley was son of George Farley, one of the first settlers of Billerica. J 

wheeler's narrative 45 

ly, of Concord, Sydrach Hopgood, of Sudbury, Serjeant 
Eyres,* Serjeant Prichard,t and Corporal Coy,t the in- 
habitants of Brookfield, aforesaid. It being the good plea- 
sure of God, that they should all there fall by their hands, 
of whose good intentions they were so confident, and whom 
they so little mistrusted. There were also then five persons 
wounded, viz. — Captain Hutchinson, my self, and my son 
Thomas, as aforesaid, Corporal French, § of Billericay, who 
having killed an Indian, was (as he was taking up his gun) 
shot, and part of one of his thumbs taken off, and also dan- 
gerously wounded through the body near the shoulder ; the 
fifth was John Waldoe, of Chelmsford, who was not so dan- 
gerously wounded as the rest. They also then killed five 
of our horses, and wounded some more, which soon died 
after they came to Brookfield. Upon this sudden and un- 
expected blow given us, (wherein we desire to look higher 
than man the instrument,) we returned to the town as fast 
as the badness of the way, and the weakness of our 
wounded men would permit, we being then ten miles from 
it. All the while we were going, we durst not stay to 
stanch the bleeding of our wounded men, for fear the 
enemy should have surprized us again, which they attempt- 
ed to do, and had in probability done, but that we perceiv- 
ing which way they went, wheeled off to the other hand, 
and so by God's good providence towards us, they missed 
us, and we all came readily upon, and safely to the town, 
though none of us knew the way to it, those of the place 
being slain, as aforesaid, and we avoiding any thick woods 
and riding in open places to prevent danger by them. 
Being got to the town, we speedily betook our selves to one 
of the largest and strongest houses therein, where we forti- 
fied our selves in the best manner we could in such straits 
of time, and there resolved to keep garrison, though we 

t* John AyTes. t Joseph Pritchard. X John Coye.] 

[$ Corporal John French was son of Lieut. William Freneh of Billerica. He went from 
Cambridge with his father to Billerica, about 1654, and lived there until his death in October, 
*7i», aged about 78.] 

46 wheeler's narrative 

were but few, and meanly fitted to make resistance against 
so furious enemies. The news of the Indians' treacherous 
dealing with us, and the loss of so many of our company 
thereby, did so amaze the inhabitants of the town, that 
they being informed thereof by us, presently left their 
houses, divers of them carrying very little away with them, 
they being afraid of the Indians sudden coming upon them ; 
and so came to the house we were entered into, very 
meanly provided of cloathing, or furnished with provisions. 
I perceiving my self to be disenabled for the discharge 
of the duties of my place by reason of the wound I had re- 
ceived, and apprehending that the enemy would soon come 
to spoyle the town, and assault us in the house, I appointed 
Simon Davis, of Concord, James Richardson,* and John 
Fiske,t of Chelmsford, to manage affairs for our safety 
with those few men whom God hath left us, and were fit 
for any service, and the inhabitants of the said town ; who 
did well and commendably perform the duties of the trust 
committed to them with much courage and resolution 
through the assistance of our gracious God, who did not 
leave us in our low and distressed state, but did mercifully 
appear for us in our greatest need, as in the sequel will 
clearly be manifested. Within two hours after our coming 
to the said house, or less, the said Captain Hutchinson and 
my self posted away Epraim Curtis, of Sudbury, and Henry 
Young, of Concord, to go to the Honoured Council at Bos- 
ton, to give them an account of the Lord's dealing with us, 
and our present condition. When they came to the further 
end of the town they saw the enemy rifling of houses 
which the inhabitants had forsaken. The post fired upon 

[* James Richardson is supposed to have been brother to Capt. Josiah Richardson, of 
Chelmsford, who died 22 July, 1695, the ancestor of the Hon. Judge Richardson, of Chester. 
He went from Woburn, the hive from which issued most of the Richardsons, to Chelmsford, 
n 166—. The first Richardson who came to the Massachusetts colony was Ezekiel Richard- 
son, who was made a freeman, in May, 1631, and was afterwards a deputy of the General 
Court. Samuel and Thomas were made freemen, 2 May, 1633, and they settled in Woburn, 
as did also, it is believed, Ezekiel, though not upon his first coming here.] 

[f John Fiske was son of the Rev. John Fiske, first minister of Chelmsford.] 

wheeler's narrative 47 

them, and immediately returned to us again, they discerning 
no safety in going forward and being desirous to inform us 
of the enemies' actings, that we might the more prepare for 
a sudden assault by them. Which indeed presently fol- 
lowed, for as soon as the said post was come back to us, the 
barbarous heathen pressed upon us in the house with great 
violence, sending in their shot amongst us like haile 
through the walls, and shouting as if they would have swal- 
lowed us up alive ; but our good God wrought wonderfully 
for us, so that there was but one man wounded within the 
house, viz. — the said Henry Young, who, looking out of the 
garret window that evening, was mortally wounded by a 
shot, of which wound he died within two dayes after. There 
was the same day another man slain, but not in the house ; 
a son of Serjeant Prichard's adventuring out of the house 
wherein we were, to his Father's house not far from it, to 
fetch more goods out of it, was caught by those cruel 
enemies as they were coming towards us, who cut off his 
head, kicking it about like a football, and then putting it 
upon a pole, they sat it up before the door of his. Father's 
house in our sight. 

The night following the said blow, they did roar 
against us like so many wild bulls, sending in their shot 
amongst us till towards the moon rising, which was about 
three of the clock ; at which time they attempted to fire our 
house by hay and other combustible matter which they 
brought to one corner of the house, and set it on fire. 
Whereupon some of our company were necessitated to ex- 
pose themselves to very great danger to put it out. Simon 
Davis, one of the three appointed by my self as Captain, to 
supply my place by reason of my wounds, as aforesaid, he 
bring of a lively spirit, encouraged the souldiers within the 
house to fire upon the Indians ; and also those that adven- 
tured out to put out the fire, (which began to rage and 
kindle upon the house side,) with these and the like words, 
that God is with us, and fights for us, and will deliver us out 


48 wheeler's narrative 

of the hands of these heathen ; which expressions of his the 
Indians hearing, they shouted and scoffed, saying : now see 
bow your God delivers you, or will deliver you, sending in 
many shots whilst our men were putting out the fire. But 
the Lord of Hosts wrought very graciously for us, in pre- 
serving our bodies both within and without the house from 
their shot, and our house from being consumed by fire, we 
had but two men wounded in that attempt of theirs, but 
we apprehended that we killed divers of our enemies. I 
being desirous to hasten intelligence to the Honoured 
Council of our present great distress, we being so remote 
from any succour, (it being between sixty and seventy miles 
from us to Boston, where the Council useth to sit) and 
fearing our ammunition would not last long to withstand 
them, if they continued so to assault us, I spake to Eph- 
raim Curtis to adventure forth again on that service, and to 
attempt it on foot, as the way wherein there was most hope 
of getting away undiscovered ; he readily assented, and ac- 
cordingly went out, but there were so many Indians every 
where thereabouts, that he could not pass, without apparent 
hazard of life, so he came back again, but towards morning 
the said Ephraim adventured forth the third time, and was 
fain to creep on his hands and knees for some space of 
ground, that he might not be discerned by the enemy, who 
waited to prevent our sending if they could have hindered it. 
But through God's mercy he escaped their hands, and got 
saiely to Marlborough, though very much spent, and ready 
to faint by reason of want of sleep before he went from us, 
and his sore travel night and day in that hot season till he 
got thither, from whence he went to Boston ; yet before 
the said Ephriam got to Marlborough, there was intelli- 
gence brought thither of the burning of some houses, and 
killing some cattle at Quabaug, by some who were going to 
Connecticot, but they seeing what was done at the end of 
the town, and hearing several guns shot off further within 
the town, they durst proceed no further. 

(To be continued.) 



^Tte Qftutor'g TOnuoto 

The day's tasks ended and the Mistress of Evening 
drawing the curtains of Night across the slanting windows of 
the West, it is meet the laborer should find sweet solace by 
his own humble window in watching the shifting scenes of 
the two lights. So it is well that we should sit by our ledge 
at the end of our month's work and watch the coming and 
the going of the trained hosts that pass in review of Fancy's 
Captain. Here, from time to time, we hope to meet our 
friends and exchange the cheerful greeting of our minds, 

M Tell anecdotes and laugh between." 

While we hope to place before its readers much that it 
is well to publish of the serious side of history, we do not 
intend that the Granite State Magazine shall be wholly 
lacking the lighter vein. There are still many short, local 
stories told by tongue that type has not revealed. 

" Choice scraps of native wit, 
like wine, now ripened quite a bit 
By age, which adds a genial shine 
To humor, mellowed down by time." 

These we can only hope to resurrect from the archives 
of memory through your cordial comradeship. 

It is true our time may be similar to that of the inhabi- 
tant of a Suncook valley town who was noted for this talent in 
rounding out a good story of personal accomplishment, or 

* 49 

50 the editor's window 

some merit, real or fancied, relating to a creature or object 
that belonged to him, always prefacing his grand peroration 
with his favorite expression, " If you would believe it, gen- 

Among his prized members of neat stock was a pair of 
unmated, unruly, lined-backed Devon steers, probably 
the only ones he ever owned. Be that as it may, there 
was no feat these steers could not perform and no element 
of merit they did not have. At one time he was drawing 
ship timber to Portsmouth for a neighbor, and these " line 
backs," (let the old man tell it, though I believe there was a 
pair of oxen behind them and did the work.) Let him tell 
his own story : " I knowed that was a tremendous load, for 
we left two clean-cuts from where we got onto the road till 
we got to Portsmouth. No sooner had I come in sight of 
' Long Bridge ' than I got all-fired consarned, fearing lest 
the old bridge couldn't hold us up. But there I was and 
there was no splitting up your load, when it was made up 
entirely of one monster pine o' such dimensions as would 
scare you to hear. Letting 'em air ' line-backs' o' mine 
ketch their breath, then I hollered to 'em, and gin the off 
one a touch o' cold steel. Mebbe there weren't some tall 
scratching for the next fifteen minutes ! The minnit 'em 
wheels rolled onto that bridge, I could hear a monstrous 
crunching and crushing. I jess hollered the louder, and 
didn't stop to look till we'd reached terror farma on t'other 
side. When I tuk a look then my hat riz a foot. If you 
would believe it, gentlemen, we bdd cut off every plank,"' 

The flag of Champlain, whose picture we give in con- 
nection with the article of " The Merrimack River," on ac- 
count of its association with the discoverer, seems worthy of 
a brief description. According to tradition this fair em- 
blem of French sovereignty, antedates the Frankish gov- 


According to story, Clovis, the pagan conqueror, be- 
fore entering upon his battle of Tolbiac, 496, fearful o f de- 
feat, pledged his wife Clotilda, the Christian heroine of an- 
cient Paris, that he would accept Christianity if he should 
gain a victory on the morrow. Pleased with this promise, 
which had long been her dream, she prayed continually for 
his success, and if it did not prevail her prayer was answer- 
ed. Clovis continued a conqueror. Within a year he and 
three thousand of his followers accepted the Christian faith. 
Immediately upon becoming a believer in her teachings, his 
beautiful wife presented him a blue banner, that her own 
hands had embroidered with golden fleur-de-lis, and declared 
that as long as the kings of France should keep that as 
their standard so long would their armies be victorious. 

Let this legend have a grain of truth, or not, the iris 
as an emblem of wide-spread influence became popular 
about the middle of the 12th century, and was conspicuous 
not only upon the national flag, but upon church crosses, 
chalices, windows of houses, seals and sceptres. 

The flag of Champlain, which was, of course, the naval 
standard, had a blue background, with the fleur-de-lis in gold. 
The fleur-de-lis ceased to be the standard of France with the 
abdication of the citizen king, Louis Philippe, and the rise 
of the republic in 1848, after an illustrious career of over 
a thousand years. It was succeeded by the tri-colour, 
which has held its place through the vicissitudes of French 
government until the present day. 

Speaking of theMerrimack leads me to ask who among 
our readers and contributors can throw any light upon the 
spelling of this word. Is there good authority for retaining 
the " k" in spelling the name, as we do in New Hampshire ? 


52 'the editor's window 

An exchange has this interesting article upon the march 
of geese : " Some interesting stories are told of wild geese. 
We think of them as flying, not realizing that they have a 
reputation for marching. Years and years ago, before the 
days of railroads in England, history tells us that once nine 
thousand geese marched from Suffolk to London, a distance 
of one hundred miles ; that for this long march but one cart 
was provided to carry the geese that might fall lame ; the 
owners knew how well the geese would walk. It is said 
that once a drove of Suffolk geese and a drove of turkeys 
left Suffolk for London together, and the geese reached 
London forty-eight hours in advance of the turkeys. 

" Only a few months ago a flock of three thousand geese, 
in charge of three goose-herds, were driven down the quay 
at Antwerp and up the gang-plank aboard an English ves- 
sel. There was a narrow canvas side to the gang-plank. 
They walked sedately aboard and crossed the deck, going 
down an inclined board to the lower deck into an inclosure 
made ready for them. 

" It is said that a flock of geese can march ten miles a 
day. Thirteen miles a day is the regulation march of a 
German soldier. A traveller in the Arctic regions says that 
he has seen the wild geese marching in those regions. 
They choose leader, who direct them as well as lead them. 
They walk about ten in a line, but in a column, and carry 
their heads high. At a signal they spread out and feed, but 
at another signal from the leaders they fall into line again. 
These geese, when they cross water in their journey, swim 
as they march, in a column ten geese wide." 




iMiwn by J. Warren Thyng. 

Engraved by Eugene Mulertt. 


Cfje <®Ib MM 

By Maurice Baldwin 

An old mill, falling to picturesque ruin, has ever been a subject of 
peculiar interest to the painter, as well as a favorite theme of the poet. 
Associations, joyous or sad, blend with the moss and the decay and 
cling to the relic of years long past. 

Mills like that which our artist and poet have so beautifully pic- 
tured, have almost become only a memory. Few of the many that 
the hillside streams once turned, can now be found in the state ; and 
these are remote from main highways. 

Older residents of Gilford, seeing its likeness, will readily call to 
mind the old mill that once stood on the brook a short distance beyond 
the village. Not long ago the last timbers of the ruin fell, and little 
remains to mark the spot where it stood. — Editor. 

OSSES cover the Old Mill, 

And its broken wheel is still ; 

On the stream's untroubled breast 
Spotless lilies rear their crest, 
But the willows whisper yet 
Things they never can forget— 




Days when all the world was young, 
Days when happy children sung, 
Underneath their branches, songs 
With no burden of life's wrongs; 
Days when work, with merry sound, 
Filled the sun's unclouded round — 

Stream and Mill are dreaming o'er 
All the busy days of yore, 
When, with many a creak and strain, 
They once ground the farmer's grain, 
And a half-sad beauty clings 


To the worn-out useless things, 

O sweet Glamour of Decay, — 
Bloom of things that pass away ! 
Thou dost lend a tender grace 
To the Past's time-softened face; 
Sweet and dim the old days seem 
Like our memories of a dream. 




mS. 3 





.^S iA'l 

f 11 



OBrantte ^tate jPaga^me 

Vol. I. FEBRUARY, 1906. No. 2. 

Cfje Belknap 

By J. Warren Thyng 

Story of the First Steamboat on Lake Winnipesaukee 

HE Indian had built his last canoe and passed on. 
The gundalow had brought its last cargo of cotton 
and New England rum to Batchelder's Mills, and 
had lain its bones on some forgotten shore ; and then, with 
the passing of the horse-boat, the last of picturesque navi- 
gation was gone from the waters of Winnipesaukee. 

The innovation of steam brought little of pleasing fash- 
ion, and when the keel of the Belknap was laid at Lake Vil- 
lage, utility became the dominating motive in shaping lake 

So prosperous had the towns bordering Lake Winnipe- 
saukee become, that, in 1832, a stock company, in which 
Stephen Lyford and James Jewett were largely concerned, 
was formed for the purpose of building a steamboat. Work 
upon the boat was at once begun, the master builder being 
a Mr. Bell. Before the hull was finished this gentleman 
lost his life by accidental drowning; then Messrs. Clock and 
Lupton of New York continued the work. The shipwrights 
found materials near at hand ; the finest quality of white . 
oak grew within a mile of the ship yard ; from these trees 
the planking of the hull was sawed at . .yford & Haywood's 
mill. The deck was covered with old growth pine of such 
good quality that when, a few years ago, a piece of plank 
was pulled up from the remains of the wreck, the wood was 
found to be sound. 



The curious reader may, if he will, row from Long 
Island to Steamboat Island, a trifle over a mile, and then 
if the lake be still, he may look down through the water 
and see the lost craft's broken basket of ribs and a heap of 
brick that once held the steamer's four boilers above the 

The Belknap was a clumsy sailor, making at the best 
not more than six or eight miles an hour. Having no up- 
per or awning deck, passengers' clothing was sometimes 
burned by sparks from the smoke-stack. The boat was 96 
feet long, 17 feet beam of hull, 33 feet over all. Her boil- 
ers, four in number, were of peculiar construction, without 
flues and set in brick. When under full steam the exhaust 
of her high-pressure engine could be heard a long distance. 

The accompanying picture of the Belknap was drawn 
from a sketch made by my father, a passenger at the time 
of the steamer's trial trip. 

July 9, 1833, was a gala day at Lake Village. People 
from miles around came to see the sight ; the boat was 
launched without accident, and her behavior in the water 
was satisfactory. As to what vintage was spilled upon her 
bow, and what libations of blackstrap helped to cheer the 
occasion, tradition is silent. Some act, supposed to propi- 
tiate the fates must have been neglected, for on the very 
first day that they got up steam, she backed spitefully into 
a raft of logs; but the mishap was soon over, and she 
steamed merrily away up Lake Paugus. 

There is no magic cylinder to return to our ears the 
voices of loved ones who stood that day upon the Belknap's 
deck, and with song and cheer speeded the departing boat. 

There was little of ornament about the Belknap. No 
figure-head, carved by cunning chisel, decorated her prow ; 
no fret-work opened fan-like upon her paddle box; no 
wooden eagle, with gilded wings, hovered over her pilot- 
house. Still, there was honest carpenter-work about her; 
and the joiner was a man skilled in his craft. 



In those days Paul Peavy's six-horse teams brought all 
manner of goods from Dover and Portsmouth to Alton 
Bay, destined to various places around the lake ; and the 
transportation of merchandise,that had hitherto been carried 
by gundalow and horse-boat, was, to a considerable extent, 
transferred to the Belknap. The gundalow, with its two 
wing-like sails spread, was a fast sailor before the wind ; 
but with a stiff breeze ahead or becalmed, when they had 
to use the long sweeps for motive power, it was slow and 
laborious work to move the craft ; sometimes taking a day 
or two to get up from Alton Bay. It was indeed discour- 
aging work, when the wind blew down the lake straight in 
their teeth, for both gundalow and horse-boat. They of- 
ten carried enormous loads, the story of which would seem 
fabulous if here set down in type. 

Not to mention the skill and intelligence of the early 
lakemen would be to neglect a simple duty, and leave my 
story unfinished. 

In October, 1841, after eight years of fairly profitable 
life, the first steamboat on Lake Winnipesaukee was 
wrecked on the shore of Steamboat Island. Early in the 
morning of the accident, the Belknap started from the head 
of Long Island with a raft of pine logs in tow. For days 
the weather had been heavy ; dark clouds, shifting with the 
caprice of the uncertain wind, wandered upon the face of 
the deep, blotting out every landmark and blurring the en- 
circling hills to a grey mezzotint. Faraway, Chocorua, half- 
buried in floating mist, like the Maladetta of the Pyrenees, 
seemed the mountain of the curse. 

Buffeted by waves, the raft dragged heavily astern, 
slowing the steamer down to half speed. The weather 
thickened as the day advanced. Presently there loomed 
out of the cloud, directly in the steamer's course, dark mas- 
ses of trees; and the sound of waves dashing upon the 
rocks could be heard. The pilot, seeing the danger, rang 
for full speed ahead, that he might alter his course. Loud- 
er grew the tumult of wind and water. Then was heard 
the voice of the Captain : " Shut her off, shut her off ! " 


The pilot, holding on to the tugging wheel, leaned out 
of his window and replied : " I suppose I must obey orders, 
but if I do, the boat 's gone to hell ! " 

A minute later the steamer, with her nose on a ledge, 
rocked to and fro. She was fastened never to leave. 

The next year, on the fourth of July — it was the year 
that President Harrison died — an attempt was made to raise 
the sunken boat ; Rufus Smith, an expert boatman, went 
over in his horse-boat and succeeded in floating her. Some 
one of the crew left a lower cabin window open, and a north- 
east storm arising in the night, the water poured in, and 
the Belknap sank to her gunwale and was abandoned. 

For a number of years her cabin afforded comfortable 
shelter in the winter for fishermen frequenting that part of 
the lake. After a while it was taken to Long Island, where 
it might have been seen among old-fashioned flowers, holly- 
hocks and Virginia creepers, a little cottage, as cosy as it 
was picturesque. 

. The fate of the Belknap calls to mind a story of the 
grounding of a horse-boat on the rocks of treacherous Witch 
Island. It was a cold evening in the fall and not very 
light, and it is possible there was a little blackstrap in the 
cuddy. Anyway, the skipper lost his reckoning and de- 
manded to know if any one aboard knew the rocks. 

" I do," answered a stranger. 

"Then take the steering oar," said the Captain. 

Five minutes later the boat ran upon a rock. 

" You said you knew these rocks," roared the skipper. 

" So I do," said the man, "this is one of them," 

The history of early navigation on Lake Winnipesau- 
kee will soon become tradition; its outlines are already dim 
as the tints of a fading daguereotype, and few, whose mem- 
ory may reach across the space of time to the morning 
when the Belknap was wrecked, are left to tell the story. 

Cfje Hast of tfje Penacoofes 

From the Unpublished Mss. of the Late Hon. Chandler E. Potter 

■^flpFTER the triumph of the British arms, and 

r J3L the subversion of the French power in the Cana- 
S^g<h das, in 1760, many of the Indians at St. Francis 
returned to their former lodges upon the sources 
of the Connecticut, Amariscoggin and the rivers of Maine, 
where they continued to live in peace with the whites, who 
were fast settling the lands in the valleys of those rivers. 
Upon the Connecticut River, at the " Lower Coos," were 
quite a number of Indians, who had returned there after 
the surrender of Canada, in 1760, and who were found 
there by the whites soon after that event. 

Among the Indians were two noted warriors, known as 
"Captain John" and "Captain Joe." These Indians, with 
their families, and others of their tribe, continued to reside 
in that section for many years, and one of them at least, 
lived in that neighborhood as late as 1819. 

" Captain John" was doubtless originally of one of the 
tribes in New Hampshire who had joined the St. Francis 
Indians. He was a true Indian warrior, who delighted in 
bloodshed and had often taken the scalps of his enemies. 
He had often been upon expeditions down the Merrimack 
and Connecticunt Rivers in the service, or under the pat- 
ronage of the French, and when under the influence of 
liquor, to which he was addicted, he would relate his ex- 
ploits on those expeditions with most savage satisfaction. 

He was at the attack on Fort Dummer (in Hinsdale, N. 
H.) and used to relate, with fiendish delight, the manner in 
which he mutilated a woman on that occasion. He was 
one of a party who made an attack upon Contoocook (now 
Hoscawen, N. H.) probably in 17 — . At which time he 



killed a woman he had taken captive, because, being old, 
she could not keep up with the party. He struck his tom- 
ahawk into her head, as she was tottering along, and as she 
received the death blow, she gave a shriek, as the old sav- 
age used to express in rehearsing his barbaraties like " a calf 
struck in the head." In 1755 " Captain John" was at " Brad- 
dock's defeat," and used to relate the incidents of that bat- 
tle with great apparent delight. In a hand-to-hand encoun- 
ter with a British officer he was knocked down, but recover- 
ing himself, he succeeded in killing the officer. He used 
to relate, with much amplification, how he saw young 
Washington during that battle and attempted to shoot him, 
but could not hit him. This Indian is possibly the one of 
whom Trumbull, the historian, relates, that he at that bat- 
tle "had seventeen fair shots at Washington with his rifle, 
but could not bring him to the ground." 

"Captain John," in the war of the Revolution, es- 
poused the cause of the Colonists, having an aversion to the 
"red coats." This dislike of the British was duly requitted, 
and he was commissioned as a Captain in the Continental 
Army. He raised a party of Indians, marched at their 
head against the enemy, and participated in the various 
achievements that brought about the surrender of Bur- 

"Captain John " had two sons, known as Peeal and 
Peeal Soosup. One was probably named Pierre and the 
other Peter Soosup. As the Indians could not pronounce 
the letter R, but used the L or N, in its stead, both of 
John's children were called Peeal, and one Peeal Soosup 
to distinguish him from the other. 

Peeal Soosup was old enough to take part in the war of 
the Revolution, and was in the company commanded by 
Captain Thomas Johnson. Near Fort Independence, in 
1777, he was in an engagement, and while firing at the en- 
emy exclaimed to Captain Johnson, "This is good fun ! " 
But neither of "Captain John's" children inherited the 



^wirlike propensities of their father, but were milcl in dispo- 
sition and quiet in their deportment. 

" Captain Joe " was an Indian belonging to a tribe in 
Nova Scotia. Upon the surrender of Louisburg this tribe 
was broken up and he retired to St. Francis under the pat- 
ronage of the French. After the fall of the French power, 
in 1760, and the British took possession of Canada, "Cap- 
tain Joe" from his aversion of the -'red coats," retired to 
the sources of the Connecticut with other Indians and 
quietly settled down at Coos, a "stranger in a strange land." 

His antipathy to the British led him to espouse the 
side of the Colonists in the war of the Revolution, and he 
became a staunch Whig. 


By George Waldo Browne 

Alone on Northland's rugged steep, 
A pine uprears its stately form, 

Wrapped in a robe of snow — asleep, 
Unmindful of the wintry storm. 

The pine is dreaming of a palm 
That, far away in Southern lands, 

Beneath the glow of a Tropic calm, 
Responsive mourns and lonely stands. 

— From the German. 


$eto Hampshire's; ^01* 

By George Bancroft Griffith 

like Nature's tonsured priest it stands, 

Dear old Chocorua ! 
An image from God's wondrous hands 

In granite strong and gray. 
And lifted there against the sky, 

Old Passaconoway, 
And Black, and Whiteface, ever nigh, — 

We see them all to-day ! 

From top of " High-Hill," pictured fair, 

The peaks of Ossipee, 
With shifting shadows here and there, 

And breezes light and free. 
New forms of beauty oft appear 

As slow we move along; 
The air, with bird-songs full of cheer. 

The flowers — June's fragrant throng ! 

And shining waters far below, 

Walled in, the swifter run ; 
And there the slopes of Tamworth glow. 

Green swarded in the sun. 
We love New Hampshire's ev'ry crest, 

Her cascades white as snow ; 
Her rugged crags where eagle's nest, 

Her pines tossed to and fro! 


CJje Merrimack fttoer 

By George Waldo Browne 
(Concluded from the January number.) 

YjfijtN its bewildering career, the mountain-born child of 
g| the river, leaps "Grand Falls," rightly named the 
most magnificent waterfall in New England ; runs 
the gantlet of that stupendous gorge known as 
"The Flume;" flies the frown of "The Old Man of the 
Mountains ;" and ringes with snowy lace-work the rim 
of " Agassiz Basin," said by the red men to have been the 
bathing pool where the goddess of the mountains sought 
seclusion in the days when the gods wed with the daugh- 
ters of men. This branch of the Merrimack, the Pemi- 
gewasset, passes through or touches and drains in part or 
all, over thirty towns, an area of nearly nine hundred 
square miles. 

The Pemigewasset is joined just above Plymouth vil- 
lage by the historic stream known as Baker's River, so 
named in honor of Captain Thomas Baker of Northamp- 
ton, Mass., who penetrated into this region with a scouting 
party in the summer of 1719 or 1720. Near the junction 
of this stream and the Pemigewasset Captain Baker and his 
men had a short but sharp fight with a body of Indians 
hunting in that vicinity. Though repulsing the red men in 
the opening battle the whites, acting under the advice of 
their guide, a friendly Indian, beat a retreat towards the 
Connecticut River, which they had ascended in reaching 
this country. Another border incident, worthy of note, 
was the surprise and capture by Indians of John Stark, 
afterwards of Revolutionary fame, but then a young man 
hunting for pelts with three companions, one of whom 
named William Stinson was killed, one escaped, while the 




third was taken captive with Stark. In the days of 
aboriginal occupancy of the country by the Amerinds 
this river, known to them as " winding waters," was a 
noted trail followed by many a hunting party and bands of 
warriors in their transit between the valley of the Merri- 
mack and the northern country. The north branch of this 
river, for like most of these mountain streams it is formed 
of two forks, has its source in the Moosehillock heights, 
from whence it flows through Warren to join its mate com- 
ing from the west, continuing southerly through Rumney 
and a section of Plymouth. It is thirty miles in length. 

The eastern branch of the Merrimack, known by the 
name of the beautiful "lake of the highlands," which is its 
source, drains in part or entirely fifteen towns and with the 
lake receives the drainage of over 560 square miles. It has 
a descent of 235 feet before joining the Pemigewasset at 
Franklin, and affords excellent water privileges. It flows 
between Laconia and Gilford, forms that beautiful sheet of 
water, Lake Winnesquam, divides Tilton and Belmont, cuts 
off a corner of Northfield and another of Tilton before los- 
ing its identity in uniting with its sister stream to form the 
true Merrimack. 

The principal tributaries of the Merrimack call for the 
mention of the Contoocook River, which rises near the 
Massachusetts line, and after flowing in a northerly course 
for about eighty miles empties into the Merrimack at Pen- 
acook. This stream affords excellent water privileges at 
Jaffrey, Peterborough Harrisville on the Nubemensit, 
Bennington, Antrim, Hillsborough, Henniker, Contoocook 
and Penacook, and flows through thirty-two towns, parts of 
two states, five counties, and drains a territory of over 
seven hundred square miles. 

On the left bank of the Merrimack, as it winds down- 
ward to the sea, the first tributary of note is Turkey River, 
which finds its source in Loudon and Gilmanton and enters 
the main river just above Garvin's Falls, from whence 



Manchester Traction, Light and Power Co. has equipped 
one of the best plants in New England. This stream is the 
one down which Hannah Dustin fled in her canoe upon her 
memorable escape from the Indians at that spot now 
marked by a monument at East Concord. 

Another stream that joins the Merrimack a little below 
is the Suncook, whose name in the Indian tongue meant 
"place of the loon." The true source of this river is a 
pond in Gilford and Gilmanton, from whence it flows in a 
southerly direction for about thirty miles, receiving the 
waters of several other ponds on its way, among them the 
Suncook Pond in Northwood, and Pleasant Pond in Deer- 
field. It drains a basin of one hundred and thirty miles, 
and has a utilized capacity of over three thousand horse 

The next in order, but entering upon the right bank 
less than a mile below the falls of Amoskeag, is the Piscat- 
aquog River, which has its principal source in the southern 
part of Henniker and the northwesterly section of Deer- 
ing. This stream flows in a southeasterly direction, and 
its rapid current affords considerable motive power for ma- 

Just below the mouth of this tributary, and entering 
upon the opposite bank, the Cohas brook, which flows in a 
westerly course for about five miles, joins the Merrimack 
at Goffe's Falls, furnishing at this bustling village the 
power for the mills located here. If brief in its career this 
stream is the outlet of the largest body of water in south- 
ern New Hampshire, Lake Massabesic, famous in the days 
of the aborigines as the best fishing ground in this vicinity, 
and noted now as a summer resort. Many an Indian le- 
gend clusters about this charming and picturesque lake 
known to them in their romantic associations as " the eyes 
of the sky." 

Next in importance is the Souhegan, having its source 
in a pond in Ashburnham, Mass., and after flowing north- 


erly for thirty-five miles joirfs the Merrimack in a town by 
the name of the latter river. It drains in whole or part of 
eleven towns and an area of one hundred and fifty thous- 
and acres of country. Its power affords life for the manu- 
facturies of New Ipswich, Greenville, Wilton, Milford and 
Merrimack, all in New Hampshire. 

The Nashua River, which gives its name to the third 
city in the state, is another tributary which finds its source 
in the watershed of northern Massachusetts, about midway 
between Rhode Island and New Hampshire. It follows a 
northerly course until reaching the state line, when it 
makes a sweep and runs for several miles in an opposite di- 
rection to that of the larger river which receives its waters 
at Nashua. Next to the Contoocook, this is the most im- 
portant tributary to the Merrimack, and drains historic 
ground. Where the truthfulness of details becomes dim 
and history uncertain, legend and tradition blend, lending to 
the tangible shadows of the past the romance of reality. 
This river was beloved by the Indians ; here they fished 
and hunted to their unbounded gratification ; here they 
tilled their fields of maize and melons ; and here they laid 
their rude hearthstones, held their councils of primeval 
government, wooed their dusky mates, kept their festivals, 
and vanished before the coming of the white settlers. 
This river furnishes the power for the mills of Fitchburg, 
Clinton, Shirley and Pepperell, Mass., and those of Nashua, 
N. H. 

Salmon River is a smaller stream rising in Groton, 
Massachusetts, to enter the Merrimack a little above the 
city of Lowell. Within this city yet another river, if not 
large as it is traced upon the map, yet great in historic in- 
terest, the Concord, formed of two streams which unite in 
the town which gives it a name, finds the Merrimack. 
The Spicket River, rising in Hampstead and Derry, N. H., 
flows southerly through Salem and Methuen, where it af- 
fords good water privileges, becomes a tributary to the 


Merrimack at Lawrence. Little River has its source in 
Plaistow and Atkinson, N. H., to enter the larger river at 
Haverhill, where it furnishes excellent water power. The 
Powow, immortalized by the poet of the Merrimack, Whit- 
tier, has its source in a cluster of beautiful gems of water in 
Kingston, N. H., flows through a corner of East Kingston 
into South Hampton, and falls into the Merrimack between 
Amesbury and Salisbury, Mass., after favoring the former 
place with a fine water power. The Amesbury Ferry, noted 
for its Revolutionary associations, begins at the rough stone 
bridge spanning the Powow. A chain ferry in the " days 
that tried men's souls " found a terminus here, with a tav- 
ern and hostelry for the accommodation of the traveller. 
The old house is still standing, an interesting relic of by 
gone days, while the road branches into two, one leading in- 
to the thriving village of Amesbury Mills, and the other 
seeking the north bank of the Merrimack winds up to Hav- 
erhill. Washington crossed this ferry in 1789, upon his 
visit to New England, and he stopped to rest at the old 
tavern mentioned. The wharf has become grass-grown, 
and only a pile of stones carpeted with greensward remains 
to speak of the primitive way of crossing the river. 

Below the bustling manufacturing town of Amesbury, 
which was taker! from Salisbury in 1668, there is much 
fine scenery, and historic memories cluster about every 
section of the country. Salisbury is noted for its beautiful 
beach, and originally bore the same name as the river 
which forms its southern boundary, the Merrimack. It re- 
ceived its present name in 1640, having been known for the 
previous year as Colchester. In 1643, with the plantations 
of New Hampshire, Hampton, Exeter, Portsmouth and 
Dover, it helped form with Haverhill, Mass., the territory 
of Old Norfolk County. It was the shire town of the 
county until New Hampshire was again separated and 
formed into a royal government, in 1679. 

" Ould Newberry," the mother of towns, situated upon 



the south bank of the Merrimack, was settled by the 
whites in the spring of 1635. The Indians had long kept a 
lodgment here known as Ouasacunquen, signifying in their 
tongue a " waterfall." West Newbury, a good farming 
town, was separated from Newbury in 1819. A little over 
half a century before, in 1764, that one-time port of for- 
eign trade, which was carried on here quite extensively, 
Newburyport, situated at the mouth of the Merrimack, had 
been similarly favored. Shipping has been seriously im- 
peded by the bar at the outlet of the river, which like the 
"great river" of China seems determined to protect itself 
from the sea, but fishing and ship-building have received 
considerable attention. Manufacturing has been followed 
to a considerable extent. This is probably the smallest 
town in area in the United States, being about two miles 
in length and one-fourth of a mile in breadth, in its popu- 
lated territory, and contains barely one square mile in its 
entire extent. This town became noted a hundred years 
ago for its ship-building, being especially well situated for 
this enterprise. It is claimed that a hundred vessels have 
been in progress of construction at its piers at one time. 

As noted as this vicinity is for its remarkable coast 
scenery, one*of its most prominent features is the sand 
bar thrown across the mouth of the river by that busy 
builder itself, as if it would seek protection from the hun- 
gry ocean forever seeking to devour it. This exposed out- 
post, barely half a mile in width, extends for over nine 
miles parallel with the coast. A few adventurous home- 
seekers have built their houses upon its inhospitable shores, 
but it is almost entirely without tree or shrub, and its suf- 
fering vegetation lies half smothered in the parti-colored 
sands, which are continually drifting over it and as con- 
stantly fleeing away as much at the mercy of the wind as 
the snows of winter. One shrub, the beach plum, which 
gives name to the island, braves the elements to an extent 
which attracts crowds to the place in the early autumn, 


seeking its fruit which is very palatable. The wind has 
kneaded and worked over the fine particles composing this 
remarkable plot of terra fir ma, which does not deserve in its 
fullest sense this term, into many fantastic shapes. It has 
builded on its shores, at their greatest altitude not over 
twenty feet, miniature bluffs of most grim aspect, and scal- 
loped from its lean banks graceful hillsides and long ridges 
of sand, curved and twisted like the spines of so many 
monsters of the deep. Over these naked places a species 
of sea moss modestly twines its tremulous drapery, while 
the delicate beach pea, looking sweeter for its dreary set- 
ting, flings a mantle of green over the gray sand. But, 
if treated niggardly by nature, this island has been espec- 
ially fortunate in having for its admirers such chroniclers 
as Whittier and Thoreau. 

There is good reason for believing that the original 
course of the Merrimack after reaching Lowell, where it 
now makes a sharp bend toward the north and east, was 
more southerly than at present, and that it entered the sea 
near where Boston is now built. The change was due to 
obstructions filling in the old channel, and making it easier 
for the great volume of water of that period to cut a new 
passage than to clear the old. This doubtless took place at 
or near the close»of the glacial epoch. 

As it runs to-day, including its tributaries, the Merri- 
mack drains a territory in New Hampshire and Massachu- 
setts of nearly five thousand square miles, and forms one 
of the most important river basins in the United States, 
the density of its population being equalled only by the 
valleys of the Delaware and the Housatonic. The number 
of its inhabitants according to the latest official returns is 
approximately three-fourths of a million (750,000) or 150 
persons to a square mile. The river and its tributaries has 
improved water privileges amounting to one hundred thous- 
and horse power, of which more than one half is in New 
Hampshire. It is claimed that its waters turn more ma- 


chinery than any other river in the world. Its importance 
as a manufacturing factor is shown in the estimate that 
one-sixth of all the cotton and woolen carpets ; one-fifth of 
all the woolen and cotton and woolen goods ; and over one- 
fourth of all the cotton fabrics, manufactured in the United 
States, are made in the valley of the Merrimack and 
its tributaries. Of the eleven cities, most benefited by 
the river, we find that their interest reaches enormous fig- 
ures, divided in round numbers, as follows, the first five be- 
inglocated in New Hampshire: Laconia, $2,389, 202; Frank- 
lin, $1,708,889; Concord, $5,357,408; Manchester, $26,607,- 
600; Nashua, $11,037,676; Lowell, $44,772,525; Law- 
rence. $44,703,278; Haverhill, $24,937,073; Amesbury, $3,- 
898,251 ; Newburyport, $5,685,768. Of course, it is to be 
understood that all of the power to carry on this great 
stroke of industry is not furnished directly by the Merri- 
mack, but that river is the direct stimulus which has caused 
these places to become the great manufacturing centers 
they now are. As is the case with New Hampshire, Mas- 
sachusetts has many smaller places scattered along the 
Merrimack and its tributaries which have become manu- 
facturing centers, where many thousand dollars' worth of 

goods are annually made. 
We find the history of the Merrimack and its basin eas- 
ily divided into two periods, the period of the pioneers and 
that of progress in manufacture. The first w r as fruitful of 
incidents enough to fill a volume that would read more like 
romance than history. A few years following of the Mas- 
sachusetts Bay colonists, in the vicinity of Salem, a little 
company of men from Yorkshire, England, plain, industri- 
ous tillers of the soil, came to New England to try their 
fortune in the great untrodden wilderness reaching f rom 
the outlet to the source of the Merrimack. With the ex- 
ception of a collection of the red men here and then* u K>n 
the lower section of the river, either part of or belongn< to 
thePenacook Indians, the valley was free from the presci ie 





of the dusky hunter or fisher. The principal lodge of these 
aborigines was at Pawtucket, just above Lowell and these 
the new-comers placated with gifts and deeds of kindness. 
So the hardy Yorkshiremen went onward with their work 
of colonization, until here and there a little meeting house 
arose in this primeval wilderness, surrounded by stockades 
of smooth, strong poles driven into the ground and stand- 
ing about twice the height of a tall man. Around these 
humble places of worship gathered the rude cabins forming 
the first homes of the Merrimack valley. 

The simple sons of the forest vanished from the pathway 
of these new-comers like dew before the morning sun. 
Wannalancet, the last great sachem at Pawtucket, finally 
withdrew the remnant of his flock to the rendezvous at St. 
Francis, in Canada. There were left then the wandering 
tribes of warriors, incited to bitterness against the English 
by the French, to be met and overcome in hand-to-hand 
grapples, where cunning more often than strength was 
pitted in the fray. The first settlement made within the 
valley as far north as the line of New Hampshire, was made 
in what became known as Old Dunstable, and from this 
settlement, upon Salmon Brook, was not only a lookout es- 
tablished, but from this outpost scouting party after party 
was sent to hunt down the enemy, that never seemed to 
sleep from the beginning of King Philip's war, in 1675, to 
the closing of the cruel drama upon the meadows of the 
Saco, when Lovewell and his men found victory in defeat, 
May 8, 1725. 

The Indian wars practically closed in the lower section 
of the river, that bitter contention between the white colon- 
ists of the two provinces, Massachusetts and New Hamp- 
shire, known as the "boundary dispute," opened in earnest, 
and lasted until 1741. This dispute arose over the miscon- 
ception already mentioned, thinking that the Merrimack 
arose directly in the west and flowed continuously toward 
the east. During the " boundary war" Massachusetts 


granted several townships in what is now the territory of 
New Hampshire, but these were finally lost to the grant- 

At this time, and for fifty years or more later, the build- 
ing of homes and the clearing of the wilderness for farms 
were the prevailing thoughts. As it had been the favorite 
hunting ground of the red men, so did it hold exceptional 
advantages and promises to the husbandman. No one then 
dreamed of the latent power in its rapids and waterfalls. 
But already the coming factor in the progress of mankind 
had made its beginning. At the same time the courts of 
the rival provinces were finally coming to an amicable set- 
tlement of the boundary dispute, manufacturing was be- 
gun at Manchester, England, and machinery for the man- 
ufacture of cotton and woolen goods invented. The 
first patent for a spinning machine was given in 1738, 
in England, to Lewis Paul ; then followed ten years 
later his invention of cylinder carding machine. In 1769, 
Richard Arkwright received a patent for his spinning 
frame, and in 1785 the Rev. Samuel Cartwright took out 
his patent for a power loom. Four years later steam power 
was first applied to manufacturing purposes. These inven- 
tions were preceeded and followed by others of scarcely 
less importance, until a system of factory enterprises came 
to revolutionize the situation in the Merrimack valley, and 
give it that place in the industrial world to which it right- 
fully belongs. Cotton manufacture was begun in Beverly, 
in 1785, while manufactures of this kind started elsewhere in 
the United States. But it was not until 1793, when Eli 
Whitney gave to the world his cotton gin, that the manu- 
facture of cotton was begun in earnest. The first manu- 
facturing in the Merrimack Valley, properly speaking, seems 
to have been inaugurated in 1801, by Moses Hale. 

Before I speak more fully of the growth of manufac- 
ture on the Merrimack I wish to refer to another industry 
that was attracting considerable attention. This was boat- 


ing upon the river. That was a period of rapid improve- 
ment. Boston was becoming a thriving town of twenty 
thousand inhabitants, and there were suburbs that only 
needed the stimulus of trade to give them power and pros- 
perity. The valley of the Merrimack, far up into New Hamp- 
shire, even if sparsely settled, promised a rich harvest of 
trade to the centers which could draw it. Better means of 
communication was thus the vital question. , Turnpikes were 
builded through the country, but while these were an im- 
provement over the poor roads hitherto existing, slow-going 
ox-teams were the main dependence for power of transit. 
Transportation thus not only became tedious, but it was 

At this time the Hon. James Sullivan projected the 
Middlesex canal, which offered easy connection between 
Lowell and Boston, by following almost identically the 
course believed to have once been the pathway of the river. 

Among the foremost men of the period, who stood for 
the development of the country, was the Hon. Samuel 
Blodget, a native of Woburn, but at this time in 
business in Haverhill. He had already foreseen that the 
Merrimack was possible of becomming a maritime highway 
certain to benefit not only the producer and the consumer, 
but was sure to bring the promoter a handsome reward for 
his investments and exertions. Though now a man who 
had arrived at an age when most men are laying aside the 
burdens and responsibilities of business, he formed his 
plans with the sanguineness of a young man with all the 
world before him. He conceived the purpose of making 
the river navigable as far, at least, as Concord, with a pos- 
sibility that it might be opened to the lake. In order to do 
this the falls must be surmounted by canals, the greatest 
of which would be that at Amoskeag, which has a perpen- 
dicular measurement of forty-five feet. Upon May 2, 1793, 
he began work on the canals at that place, meeting with 
obstacles that must have disheartened a less courageous 


heart ; exhausting his own means, and calling upon others 
for assistance, so that on May I, 1807, he completed his 
noble work. Other canals were built, though of less size, 
and the river was opened as far as Concord, N. H., to be- 
come the most popular route for moving merchandise be- 
tween Boston and the towns of the north. With the river 
boatmen sprang into service a new phase of life, exciting, 
profitable and strenuous, building up a set of characters 
noted for their hardihood. Passenger packets beginning to 
run from Lowell to the sea during this period, the last of 
these disappeared about 1838. 

Judge Blodget died in September, 1807, but he has left 
the impress of his energetic power upon the locality where 
he had spent his last years. He, with General John Stark 
of Revolutionary fame, built the first saw mill above the 
falls, and seeing possibilities of the waterfall he laid the 
foundation toward building up that great manufacturing in- 
terest later entered into by the great company known the 
world over as the Amoskeag Manufacturing Company. He 
suggested the coming city should be named after that al- 
ready growing center of industry, Manchester, England. 

In the midst of the growing business of both river and 
turnpike, a new motor of transportation appeared upon the 
scene, when, in 1842, the iron horse came up the valley 
puffing and shrieking like mad, to the surprised beholders, 
but a conqueror of time and speed. With the success of 
the railroad the remarkable progress of the string of 
manufacturing cities on the Merrimack continued with in- 
creasing prosperity. Since 1850, only a few years more 
than half a century, Manchester, Nashua, Lowell, Law- 
rence, Haverhill, to say nothing of the remaining cities, 
have flourished beyond what could have been the prediction 
of the most sanguine person. In this same period the steam 
engine has pushed its way steadily out from the main river, 
until now it runs along the banks of all but three of its trib- 
utaries, following on almost to their sources. Of the hun- 


tired or more towns in New Hampshire that are drained by 
these streams there is scarcely a dozen which is not banded 
by the iron rails, while the total length of these roads in 
this state is over five hundred miles. Massachusetts has 
been even more fortunate in this respect. In addition to 
this, the electric motor has found its way as far north as 
the valley of the Pemigewasset, except for a link soon to 
be built between Nashua and Manchester, N. H., making 
an endless chain from the sea to the mountains. Trolley 
lines have penetrated into many of the adjoining towns, 
bringing them within close touch of the river of progress. 
Besides being a manufacturing district, the Merrimack 
Valley is a beautiful agricultural country, and some of the 
finest homesteads in New England have been developed 
from the clearings of the pioneers one hundred and fifty 
years ago. Its scenery of hills and vales, lakes and moun- 
tains, entwined with bands of silvery streams, is equal to 
any found upon the slopes of the Appalachian chain of high- 
lands. And the chief attraction to-day, as it was at its pe- 
riod of primeval glory, is the red man's Merrimack, "river 
of broken waters," the busiest, merriest, noblest water-way 
in New England. Dashing with child-like glee from 

" The pine-trees lean above its cradle, laid 

Deep under tangled roots and mossy sod, 
. Where mountains lift their faces unafraid 
Thro sun and starlight to the face of God," 

gliding swiftly over pebble-strewn beds, winding through 
rich meadows like a silver thread in the green vestment of 
Nature, flinging its legions of snowy caps tossed high in 
the air over rocky stairways, making a descent of six thou- 
sand feet in two hundred miles, it seeks the sea and rests 
with the calmness of old age. The constant song of its 
rushing current is the eternal melody of industry; the un- 
ending roar of its waterfalls, the voice that calls men to work 
in thunder tones. It turns more factory wheels, lights more 
forge fires, swings more hammers, keeps busy more hands of 




art and toil than any other river that runs to the sea. The 
products of its looms have been sent to every clime ; its cot- 
ton cloths and woolen goods have been the raiment of many 
races of men ; its iron and steel the building material of city 
and country ; its tools and machinery the strong helpers on 
farm and in work shop, at home and abroad ; stout ships 
plow the watery highway of the deep laden with its com- 
merce, while the triumphant whistle of the iron horse 
has awakened the solitude of far-distant lands. 

Wtyvt tfje fttber is 2fom 

By Mabel Earle 

The pine-trees lean above its cradle, laid 
Deep under tangled roots and mossy sod, 

Where mountains lift their faces unafraid 

Through sun and starlight to the face of God. 

Long shadows slant across the silent steep, 

And far above the green heights pierce the blue, 

While wood-doves lull the baby stream asleep 
With softly-echoing call and dreamy coo. 

No voice comes near it from the world before, 
Telling of all its life shall dare and be, 

Where plunging cataracts through the wild crags roar, 
Or where white sails go down to find the sea. 

Held safe and still, the baby river sleeps 

Far in the mountain fastnesses apart, 
God's sunlight lying on its guardian steeps, 

And God's great future hidden in its neart. 

— Youths' Companion, 


feeler's ^arratibe 

Concluded from the January number 

RETURNING immediately to Marlborough, though 
* they then knew not what had befallen Captain Hut- 
chinson and myself, and company, nor of our being 
there, but that timely intelligence they gave before Eph- 
raim Curtis his coming to Marlborough occasioned the Hon- 
oured Major Willards turning his march towards Quabaug, 
for their relief, who were in no small danger every hour of 
being destroyed ; the said Major being, when he had that 
intelligence, upon his march another way as he was or- 
dered by the honoured council, as is afterwards more fully 

The next day being August 3d, they continued shoot- 
ing and shouting, and proceeded in their former wicked- 
ness, blaspheming the name of the Lord, and reproaching 
us, his afflicted servants, scoffing at our prayers as they 
were sending in their shot upon all quarters of the house 
and many of them went to the town's meeting house, 
(which was within twenty rods of the house in which we 
were) who mocked saying, come and pray, and sing psalms, 
and in contempt made an hideous noise somewhat resem- 
bling singing. But we, to our power, did endeavour our 
own defence, sending our shot amongst them, the Lord 
giving us courage to resist them, and preserving us from 
the destruction they sought to bring upon us. On the 
evening following, we saw our enemies carrying several of 
their dead or wounded men on their backs, who proceeded 
that night to send in their shot, as they had done the night 
before, and also still shouted as if the day had been cer- 
tainly theirs, and they should without fail, have prevailed 
against us, which they might have the more hopes of in re- 


80 wheeler's narrative 

gard that we discerned the coming of new companies to 
them to assist and strengthen them, and the unlikelihood 
of any coming to our help. They also used several strate- 
gems to fire us, namely, by wild fire in cotton and linnen 
rags with brimstone in them, which rags they tyed to the 
piles of their arrows, sharp for the purpose, and shot them 
to the roof of our house, after they had set them on fire, 
which would have much endangered the burn ing thereof, 
had we not used means by cutting holes through the roof, 
and otherwise, to beat the said arrows down, and God being 
pleased to prosper our endeavours therein. — They carryed 
more combustible matter, as flax and hay, to the sides of the 
house, and set it on fire, and then flocked apace towards the 
door of the house, either to prevent our going forth to quench 
the fire, as we had done before, or to kill our men in their 
attempt to go forth, or else to break into the house by 
the door ; whereupon we were forced to break down the wall 
of the house against the fire to put it out. They also shot 
a ball of wild fire into the garret of the house, which fell 
amongst. a great heap of flax or tow therein, which one of 
our souldiers, through God's good Providence soon espyed, 
and having water ready presently quenched it ; and so we 
were preserved by the keeper of Israel, both our bodies 
from their shot, which they sent thick against us, and the 
house from being consumed to ashes, although we were but 
weak to defend our selves, we being not above twenty and 
six men with those of that small town, who were able for 
any service, and our enemies, as I judged them about, (if 
not above,) three hundred, I speak of the least, for many 
there present did guess them to be four or five hundred. 
It is the more to be observed, that so little hurt should be 
done by the enemies' shot, it commonly piercing the walls 
of the house, and flying amongst the people, and there be- 
ing in the house fifty women and children besides the men 
before mentioned. But abroad in the yard, one Thomas 
Wilson of that town, being sent to fetch water for our help 
in further need, ( that which we had being spent in putting 



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wheeler's narrative 81 

out the fire,) was shot by the enemy in the upper jaw and 
in the neck, the anguish of which wound was such at the 
first that he cried out with a great noise, by reason where- 
of the Indians hearing him rejoyced and triumphed at it ; 
but his wound was healed in a short time, praised be God. 
On Wednesday, August the 4th, the Indians fortifyed 
themselves at the meeting house, and the barne, belonging 
to our house, which they fortified both at the great doors, 
and at both ends, with posts, rails, boards, and hay, to save 
themselves from our shot. They also devised other strate- 
gems, to fire our house, on the night following, namely, 
they took a cart, and filled it with flax, hay and candle- 
wood, and other combustible matter, and set up planks, 
fastened to the cart, to save themselves from the danger of 
our shot. Another invention they had to make the more 
sure work in burning the house. They got many poles of 
a considerable length and bigness, and spliced them to- 
gether at the ends one of another, and made a carriage of 
them about fourteen rods long, setting the poles in two 
rows with peils laid cross over them at the front end, and 
dividing them said poles about three foot asunder, and in 
the said front of this their carriage they set a barrel, hav- 
ing made an hole through both heads, and put an axle-tree 
through them, to which they fastened the said poles, and 
under every joynt of the poles where they were spliced, 
they set up a pair of truckle wheeles to bear up the said 
carriages, and they loaded the front or fore-end thereof with 
matter fit for firing, as hay, and flaxe, and chips, &c. Two 
of these instruments they prepared, that they might con- 
vey fire to the house, with the more safety to themselves, 
they standing at such a distance from our shot, whilst they 
wheeled them to the house : great store of arrows they had 
also prepared to shoot fire upon the house that night; 
which we found after they were gone, they having left 
them there. But the Lord who is a present help in times 
of trouble, and is pleased to make his people's extremity 
his opportunity, did graciously prevent them of effecting 

82 wheeler's narrative 

what they hoped they should have done by the aforesaid 
devices, partly by sending a showre of rain in season, 
whereby the matter prepared being wett would not so 
easily take fire as it otherwise would have done, and partly 
by aide coming to our help. For our danger would have 
been very great that night, had not the only wise God 
(blessed for ever) been pleased to send to us about an 
hour within night the worshipful Major Willard with Cap- 
tain Parker of Groaton, and forty-six men more with five 
Indians to relieve us in the low estate into which we were 
brought ; our eyes were unto him the holy one of Israel ; 
in him we desired to place our trust, hoping that he would 
in the time of our great need appear for our deliverance, 
and confound all their plots by which they thought them- 
selves most sure to prevail against us ; and God who com- 
forteth the afflicted, as he comforted the holy apostle Paul 
by the coming of Titus to him, so he greatly comforted us 
his distressed servants both souldiersand town inhabitants, 
by the coming of the said honoured Major, and those with 
him. In whose so soon coming to us the good providence 
of God did marvellously appear ; for the help that came to 
us by the honoured council's order (after the tydings they 
received by our post sent to them ) came not to us till Sat- 
urday, August 7, in the afternoon, nor sooner could it well 
come in regard of their distance from us, i. e. if we had not 
had help before that time, we see not how we could have 
held out, the number of the Indians so encreasing, and they 
making so many assaults upon us, that our ammunition be- 
fore that time would have been spent, and ourselves disen- 
abled for any resistance, we being but few, and alwaies fain 
to stand upon our defence ; that we had little time for refresh- 
ment of ourselves either by food or sleep ; the said hon- 
oured Major's coming to us so soon was thus occasioned ; 
he had a commission from the honoured council (of which 
him self was one) to look after some Indians to the west-ward 
of Lancaster and Groaton, (where he himself lived) and to 
secure them, and was upon his march towards them on the 


wheeler's narrative 83 

foresaid Wednesday in the morning", August 4th, when tyd- 
ings coming to Marlborough by those that returned thither 
as they were going to Connecticot, concerning what they 
saw at Brookfield as aforesaid, some of Marlborough know- 
ing of the said Major's march from Lancaster that morning 
presently sent a post to acquaint him with the information 
they had received ; the Major was gone before the post 
came to Lancaster; but there was one speedily sent after 
him, who overtook him about five or six miles from the said 
town ; he being acquainted, that it was feared, that Brook- 
field (a small town of about fifteen or sixteen families) was 
either destroyed, or in great danger thereof, and conceiving 
it to require more speed to succour them (if they were not 
past help) than to proceed at present, as he before intended, 
and being also very desirous (if it were possible) to afford re- 
lief to them, (he being then not above thirty miles from them) 
he immediately altered his course and marched with his 
company towards us : and came to us about an hour after 
it was dark as aforesaid ; though he knew not then, either 
of our being there nor of what had befallen us at the swamp 
and in the house those two days before. 

The merciful providence of God also appeared in pre- 
venting the danger that the honoured Major and his com- 
pany might have been in, when they came near us, for 
those beastly men, our enemies skilful o destroy, indeav- 
oured to prevent any help from coming to our relief, and 
therefore sent down sentinels, (some nearer and some fur- 
ther off) the furthest about two miles from us, who if they 
saw any coming from the bay they might give notice by an 
alarm. And there were about an hundred of them who for 
the most part kept at an house some little distance from 
us, by which if any help came from the said bay, they must 
pass, and so they intended (as we conceive) having notice 
by their sentinels of their approach to way-lay them, and if 
they could, to cut them off before they came to the house 
where we kept. 

But as we probably guess, they were so intent and buisy 

84 wheeler's narrative 

in preparing their instruments (as above-said) for our des- 
truction by fire, that they were not at the house where they 
used to keep for the purpose aforesaid, and that they heard 
not their sentinels when they shot ; and so the Major's way 
was clear from danger till he came to our house. And that 
it was their purpose so to have fallen upon him, or any 
other coming to us at that house, is the more probable 
in that (as we have since had intelligence from some of the 
Indians themselves, there were a party of them at another 
place who let him pass by them without the least hurt or 
opposition, waiting for a blow to be given him at the said 
house, and then they themselves to fall upon them in the 
reare, as they intended to have done with us at the swamp, in 
case we had fled back as before expressed. The Major and 
company were no sooner come to the house, and understood 
(though at first they knew not they were English who were 
in the house, but thought they might be Indians, and there- 
fore were ready to have shot at us, till we discerning they 
were English by the Major's speaking, I caused the trum- 
pet to be sounded) that the said Captain Hutchinson, my- 
self, and company with the town's inhabitants were there, 
but the Indians also discerned that there were some come 
to our assistance, whereupon they spared not their shot, 
but poured it out on them ; but through the Lords good- 
ness, though they stood not farr asunder one from an 
other, they killed not one man, wounded only two of his 
company; and killed the Major's son's* horse; after that, 

. * [It does not appear which of the Major's nine sons is referred to. Of a family which 
has afforded so many descendants, and some of them highly distinguished, it may be proper 
to give their names and the times of their births, so far as they have been ascertained after the 
most patient and diligent research. 

i. Josiah Willard; (no record of his birth has been found.) He married Hannah 
Hosmer in 1657. 

2. Simon Willard, born 31st January, 1640. 

3. Samuel Willard : ( The time of his birth has not been ascertained.) He married 
Abigail Sherman, and after her death, Eunice Tyng. 

4. Henry Willard, born 4th June, 1655. 

5. John Willard, born 12th February, 1657. 

6. Daniel Willard, born 26th December, 1658. 

7. Joseph Willard, born 4th April, 1660. 

wheeler's narrative 85 

we within the house perceived the Indians shooting so at 
them, we hastened the Major and all his company into the 
house as fast as we could, and their horses into a little yard 
before the house, where they wounded five other horses 
that night ; after they were come into the house to us, the 
enemies continued their shooting some considerable time, 
so that we may well say, had not the Lord been on our side 
when these cruel heathens rose up against us, they had 
then swallowed us up quick, when their wrath was kindled 
against us. But wherein they delt proudly, the Lord was 
above them. 

When they saw their divers designs unsuccessful, and 
their hopes therein disappointed, they then fired the house 
and barne (wherein they had before kept to lye in wait to 
surprise any coming to us) that by the light thereof they 
might the better direct their shot at us, but no hurt was 
done thereby, praised be the Lord. And not long after 
they burnt the meeting house werein their fortifications 
were, as also the barne, which belonged to our house, and 
so perceiving more strength come to our assistance, they 
did, as we suppose, despair of affecting any more mischief 
against us. And therefore the greatest part of them, to- 
wards the breaking of the day, August the fifth, went away 
and left us, and we were quiet from any further molesta- 
tions by them ; and on that morning we went forth of the 
house without danger, and so daily afterwards, only one 
man was wounded about two dayes after, as he went out to 
look after horses, by some few of them sculking therea- 
bouts. We cannot tell how many of them we killed, in all 
that time, but one, that afterwards was taken, confessed 
that there were killed and wounded about eighty men or 
more. — Blessed be the Lord God of our salvation who kept 

8. Benjamin Willard, born ( time not ascertained) . 
9- Jonathan Willard, born 14th December, 1669. 
The first six were probably born in Concord, Ms. 

The 7th and 9th and perhaps the 8th were born in Lancaster. Further notices of this 
family may be found in Farmer &> Moore's Collections, Vol. /.] 


us from being all a prey to their teeth. But before they 
went away they burnt all the town except the house we 
kept in, and another that was not then finished. They al- 
so made great spoyle of the cattel belonging to the inhabi- 
tants ; and after our entrance into the house, and during 
the time of our confinement there, they either killed or 
drove away almost all the horses of our company. 

We continued there, both well and wounded, towards 
a fortnight, and August the thirteenth Captain Hutchinson 
and my self, with the most of those that had escaped without 
hurt, and also some of the wounded, came from thence ; my 
son Thomas and some other wounded men, came not from 
thence, being not then able to endure travel so far as we 
were from the next town, till about a fortnight after. We 
came to Marlborough on August the fourteenth, where 
Captain Hutchinson being not recovered of his wound 
before his coming from Brookfield and overtyred with his 
long journy, by reason of his weakness, quickly after grew 
worse, and more dangerously ill, and on the nineteenth day 
of the said month dyed, and was there the day after buried, 
the Lord being pleased to deny him a return to his own 
habitation, and his near relations at Boston, though he was 
come the greatest part of his journey thitherward. The in- 
habitants of the town also, not long after, men, women, and 
children, removed safely with what they had left, to several 
places, either where they had lived before their planting or 
sitting down there ; or where they had relations to receive 
and entertain them. The honoured Major Willard stayed at 
Brookfield some weeks after our coming away, there being 
several companies of souldiers sent up thither and to Hadly 
and the towns thereabouts, which are about thirty miles from 
Brookfield, whither also the Major went for a time upon 
the serviee of the country in the present warr, and from 
whence there being need of his presence for the ordering 
of matters concerning his own regiment, and the safety of 
the towns belonging to it, he through God's goodness and 
mercy, returned in safety and health to his house, and dear 
relations at Groaton. 

wheeler's narrative 87 

Thus I have indeavoured to set down and declare both 
what the Lord did against us in the loss of several person's 
lifes, and the wounding of others, some of which wounds 
were very painful in dressing, and long ere they were 
healed, besides many dangers that we were in, and fears 
that we were exercised with ; and also what great things he 
was pleased to do for us in frustrating their many attempts, 
and vouchsafing such a deliverance to us. The Lord avenge 
the blood that hath been shed by these heathen, who hate 
us without a cause, though he be most righteous in all that 
hath befallen there, and in all other parts of the country- ; 
he help us to humble ourselves before him, and with our 
whole hearts, to return to him, and also to improve all his 
mercies, which we still enjoy, that so his anger may cease 
towards us and he may be pleased either to make our eni- 
mies at peace with us, or more, destroy them before us. 
I tarried at Marlborough with Captain Hutchinson until his 
death, and came home to Concord, August the 21, (though 
not throughly recovered of my wound) and so did others 
that went with me. But since I am reasonable well, though 
I have not the use of my hand and arm as before : my son 
Thomas, though in great hazard of life for some time after 
his return to Concord, yet is now very well cured, and his 
strength well restored! Oh that we could praise the Lord 
for his great goodness towards us. Praised be his name, 
that though he took away some of us, yet was pleased to 
spare so many of us, and adde unto our dayes; he help us 
whose souls he hath delivered from death, and eyes from 
tears, and feet from falling, to walk before him in the land 
of the living, till our great change come, and to sanctifie his 
name in all his ways about us, that both our afflictions, and 
our mercies may quicken us to live more to his glory all 
our dayes.* 

* [The 21st October, 1675, was kept by Capt. Wheeler and those who returned with him. 
is a day of praise and thanksgiving to God for their remarkable deliverance and safe return, 
when Rev. Edward Bulkley, of Concord, preached a sermon to them, from " What shall I 
render unto the Lord for all his benefits towards me! " Psalm cxvi, 12.] 


A Difficult Courtship 

By The Nestor of the Farms 

'OW is it you never got married, Bige ? " asked a 
tall youth, who was pulling an incipient mus- 
tache while he jollied a big, good-natured man 
somewhat passed the prime of life, and who had spent 
his days travelling about the country towns as a pack-ped- 
dler. Bige Little, as every body knew him, had a wide 
acquaintance, and his hearty laugh was always considered 
to be a better tonic for the low in spirit than the best pre- 
scription ever compounded by a physician. " Sich a good- 
looking fellow as you," continued the young man, "ought 
to have found a girl who'd had you ? " \ 

"Ought to hev found a gal thet 'd had me ?" fairly roared 
the genial peddler, dropping his pack in a heap while he 
glowered upon the youth in feigned or unfeigned wrath. 
" Who ever said Bige Little never found a gal who'd had 
me? Jess show thet critter an' I'll tweak his nose 'f it 
breaks my back in so doin'. I was good-lookin' in my young 
days, afore this unaccountable counter-poise got onto me, 
so all you hev to do to get my dimensions to a dot, is to get 
my circumference one way. It's jess so wi' Job here. But 
thet ain't th' p'int I started fer, as th' dawg said when he 
run onto th' buzz saw. S'pose you think an ol' duff like I 
've got to be now never had a gal. I did onc't, youngster, 
an' she was 's purty 's a paintin'. She an' me got so far, 
too, th' day was fixed an' th' parson hired, haw — haw — haw ! 
Whut d'ye think of thet, bub ? Th' ol' man weren't so tar- 
nal slow in 'em days, 'f he's flummixed inter a snail sence, 
haw — haw — haw ! " 



" Tell us about it, Bige. Did the girl go back on 
you ? " 

" Not egsactly, though she was 's proud 's a yearlin' 
heifer. So was I, too, in 'em days, fer thet matter, haw — 
haw — haw ! But to get down to bizness, 's I did to court- 
in', you see, I waited on Sue Mudget fer nigh onto two 
years, an' it was waitin', if Sue was willin', her dad vowed 
by the biggest stump in his tatter patch, we should never 
get married with his blessin'. This sort o' put a damper 
on my genial natur', an' more especially on Sue's. But I 
was bound an' determined to circumvent th' oF gent if I 
hung fer it, an' got burnt to th' stake arterwards. An' I 
tell ye I come mighty nigh to both. 

"Sue bein' willin' I hung around till th' oF gent got so 
fussy, seein' me hangin' round his house so much, I s'pose, 
he up an' said I should keep erway altogether. Sue axed 
him to let me stay a leetle while in th' evenin', and she 
begged so hard, he said I might stay till the moon set, an' 
no longer. Th' moon was thet way erlong thet she didn't 
stay out long arter dark, an' it looked so my chance seein' 
Sue was purty well tuckered out. But I soon hit upon a 
plan which I nacherly»concluded would help us out a bit. 

" Th' next night I went, which was th' one follered th' 
last, nacherly, I carried with me a sort of home-made moon. 
It was something I 'd made out 'n an oF cheese box, with 
a sheet of greased paper pasted over th' open end, an' a 
lighted candle inside. Watchin' my chance, when th' moon 
was goin' below th' tree-top, I shined the oF elm jess back 
of th' house, an' hung up my moon ! 

" Th' oF gent couldn't see a rod from his nose wi' enny 
sartainty, an' my scheme worked like a new whistle. I 
staid till well toward mornin', when I tuk down my moon, 
an' wi' her under my arm, went home feelin' purty scrum- 

" Th' next night I repeated th' operation, only stay- 
in' a leetle later, 'f ennything, an' it worked so slick, I kept 


on doin' it. Sue an' I larfed by th' hour thinkin' how we 
were foolin' th' ol' gent. 

"But bimeby he mus' er sort o' got suspicious, seein' 
a full round moon lightin' his dooryard as 'f it had a con- 
tract to do so right erlong through th' season, wi' th' last 
quarter past, an' a new moon over-due. 

" Of course, Sue an' me oughter seen this, but love, you 
know, is blind, an' we didn't notice ennything out o' th' 
way till we heard one night, way long toward mornin', a 
tumble crash an' a hurrah in th' frunt yard — I mean, back 
yard o' th' house. 

" ' Fer th' land sakes !' cried Sue, half scart to death, 
1 th' moon has dropped, an' dad '11 ketch ye here wi' me ! 
Scooter fer yer life ! Quick, climb out 'n th' winder.' 

" S'pose ye think 't 'd be an orful sight to see me crawl- 
in' out 'n a winder in a hurry, eh ? Wull, I dumb that 
night, an' when I got outside, I found th' ol' gent dancin' 
round with a fifty foot pole in one hand, an' thet air moon 
o' mine hangin' on his shoulders, wi' his head stickin' up 

" I didn't mjn' th' damage he 'd done it, nor I didn't 
even ax him to gin it up, fer I 'd rather let him hev it, than 
to hev him thinkin' I was mean or stingy in small matters, 
seein' I was courtin' his darter. I jess scampered fer all I 
was worth down through th' orchard, an' he hollerin' an 
carousin' wi' thet moon till they heerd him clear over in 

" I must say, thet eclipse o' th' moon sort o' broke up 
Sue an' me coortin', though I will say, she was true blue. 
I managed to see her a few times, an' then, findin' her dad 
was so bitter set agin me, she an' me planned to elope. 

'* I never felt so tickled in my life, not when I carried 
thet home-made moon an' hung it up in th' ol' gent's elm 
tree, 's I did when I got Sue to fix th' day, or ruther night, 
'cas we 'd got to start out in life together in th' dark. But 
young people don't min' thet. I was to drive my team 


purty nigh to th' house, an' help her down to th' road wi' 
her trossee, which o' course under th' sarcumstances wasn't 
to be very 'laborate. I wasn't to see her ag'in till that 

" I ain't never seen her ag'in sence then, fer thet mar- 
ter. But I 'm gettin' th' waggin ahead o' th' hoss. 

" I got th' parson to say he 'd jine us in tremendus 
quick time 'f thet should be necessary. In fact, we went 
's fur 's my part would let us. Then I went promptly to 
th' house. Thet is to say, I went to where the house had 
stood, an' where I expected nacherly to find Sue. She 
weren't ther ! More uncomprehensible than thet, th' house 
weren't there ! 

" Cur'ous, wasn't it ? S'arched till mornin' an' I 
couldn't find neither th' gal nor th' house. Most mortify- 
in' predicament I was ever in. 

" But when it come daylight, I could see thet it weren't 
enny perticuler non-sightedness o' mine. . Th' ol' gent, see- 
in' he couldn't sarcumvent me enny other way, had moved 
away wi' his house an' fumily ! Yes, sirree, th' house was 
gone clean to th' underpinning 

" Nacherly I felt a leetle put out. Gettin' my traps 
together I set out arter 'em, thinkin' it would be no great 
difficulty fer me to overtake 'em on foot. This was espec- 
ially th' better, as well as th' safer way, 'cos my hoss 
weren't no shucks on th' road, an' more especially 'cos th' 
hoss I had taken erlong didn' belong to me ennyway. 

" Wull, I trudged erway wi' purty good courage till 'long 
toward noon. Erbout thet time my laigs, nacherly not 
overlong, seemed to get purty short, an' th' hills purty long. 
I hadn't seen so much 's a peek o' th' ol' gent an' his house. 

" Then I met a feller in a top kerridge, an' hailed him 
if he'd seen sich a caravan on th' road, when he had th' im- 
perdence to up an tell me th' ol' gent had gone t'other way. 
I argyfied wi' him, an' to make his side seem right, he got 
out'n his kerridge an' tried to show me there in th' road 


thet th' ol* gent to fool me had taken th' shoes off' n his 
hosses an' put 'em on backwards so es to make it 'pear he 
was goin' t'other way from th' way he was goin\ An' th' 
way he was goin' was t'other way from th' way I'd come. 
Nacherly this pumpous stranger an' I got all mixed up, an' 
I got riled an' he got mad. I struck him wi' my fist, an' 
he hit me wi' th' whip. Arter thet I concluded I wouldn't 
go enny furder thet day. Th' weather was so sort o' un- 
even th' next day I didn't go out, an' — wull, to make my 
story shorter, I ain't never yet ketched up wi' th' ol' gent, 
though I did l'arn th' feller in th' top kerridge was a con- 
spirator, who married Sue inside a year. Pass thet cider, 
Jerry, talkin' alwus makes me dry." 

Cfje $mtf) <#tar 

By Aelen Eastman Cross 

Read at the Celebration of the State of New Hamp- 
' shire of the One Hundreth Anniversary of 
the Signing of the Constitution. 

" Congress had provided that when conventions in nine of the thirteen states should rat- 
ify the constitution it should become the fundamental law of the republic. To New Hamp- 
shire, therefore, rightly belongs the honor of securing the adoption of the constitution with all 
its attendant blessings." — Benson J. Lossing. 

" The courier, announcing the news of the ratification by New Hampshire, passed 
through New York on the 2=;th and reached Philadelphia on the 26th. The newspapers of the 
latter city immediately cried out, ' The reign of Anarchy is over,' and the popular enthusiasm 
rose to the highest point." — Curtis' s History 0/ the Constitution. 

" God bless New Hampshire ! from her Granite peaks 
Once more the voice of Stark and Langdon speaks." 
So cried our martial bard in days of old, 
When, from the accursed chains of slavish gold, 
The spirit of our hills sprang proudly uncontrolled. 

God bless New Hampshire ! 'Tis the common prayer, 

That heavenward floats upon the loyal air 

Whenever courage crowns the Granite State, 

Or she for freedom holds the torch of fate, 

Or free New Hampshire hearts her valor celebrate. 

Such wa^ the torch, brave State, that beaconed forth, 
When, from the crystal summits of the North, 


New Hampshire signaled back the fateful sign 

That made the stars upon thy banner nine, 

True Magna Charta of Man's liberties divine ! 

True Magna Charta of the brave and free ! 

Our Magna Charta it must ever be, 

Since from New Hampshire's sky the light was hurled 

That saved this Constitution to the world, 

And by her federal star the flag unfurled. 

Thence rose our free Republic, the ninth star 

Filling its perfect lustre, while afar 

From Maine to Carolina rang the cry 

•"God bless this brave New Hampshire," till God's sky 

Seemed proudlier on her ancient hills to he. 

Hills of the North-land, be ye ever proud ! 

Crowning memorial peaks with whitest cloud; 

New Hampshire's star has flashed above your heights, 

Blent with its sister stars' embattled lights, 

And fought each Sisera for God and human rights. 

Lakes of New Hampshire, be ye calm and clear ! 

Ye've mirrored many a storm but ne'er a feat; 

Fold in your fair embrace our Northern star ; 

Let no foul hand its fair reflection mar, 

Down dropt in your clear depths from Freedom's heaven afar. 

Sons,of New Hampshire, hold ye, also, fast 

The light that blessed Constitution cast ! 

Let no disloyal son its power deny, 

From where there ocean meets the sands of Rye 

To where your crystal hills uplift the crystal sky. 

Remember those who left this light to you ; 

Remember its " Defender," grand and true ; 

Clasp in your own, great Langdon's generous hand ; 

Feel Stark's strong pulse, and with cClary stand, 

Letting each loyal life your loyalty command. 

And now, true hearts, who love God's greater sky 

Of human rights and human liberty, 

Look upward to that haven, then be true 

To the brave star upon your banner blue, 

And pray with me the grand old prayer so dear to you. 

Our Father, bless New Hampshire, keep her light 

In its fair sky of freedom clear and bright. 

Pure as a star should be, devoid of shame, 

True to her ancient heritage of fame, 

With grateful, loving hearts to guard her holy name. 

Cije ^tutor's T©mboto 

While one might naturally expect to find a greater 
abundance of the four-footed denizens of the forest where 
they would be most likely to remain undisturbed by man, 
such is not really the case. The clearings of the most ven- 
turesome pioneer, with the products that were fruits of his 
industry, enabled them to live better than in the fastness 
of the great woods. What was true of the animals, was 
true of the Indian. His wigwams were generally built 
where the sunlight found an opening into the country, along 
some river, on the margin of some pond, or by some clear- 
ing Nature had prepared for him'. Not finding these he set 
about making a clearing himself. Hither came the wild 
beasts, if not rejoicing in his company, faring better near 
to him. 

The myth is the poem of the primitive man, the men- 
tal medium through which he viewed Nature, the construc- 
tion he put upon the results whose causes he could not, in 
his unsophisticated state of mind, reason out by rational 

Evolving from an origin so remote and visionary as not 
to be traced to its well-spring we are apt to consider its 
creations as the collective output of anonymous folk-auth- 
ors of a pre-historic race. But it is scarcely probable that 
this was the case. No doubt there appeared in the shad- 
owy past a some one with poetic gifts lifting him above his 
fellow creatures, just as we to-day acknowledge the sway of 


the editor's window 95 

a master poet, and who arranged in something like a tan- 
gible form what seemed to him the personified attributes 
of Nature 

The term "Yankees," at first given in derision, was 
applied somewhat indiscriminately to all the inhabitants of 
New England. It was never given to people outside of this 
territory. Strictly speaking, as bounded by their speech, 
it did not apply to all of the inhabitants of New England, 
but belonged to portions of Maine, New Hamphsire, Ver- 
mont and Connecticut. It did not appear to apply to the 
Scotch-Irish people, the Puritans, or the Pilgrims. It 
seems to have originated with the settlers who came from 
Yorkshire, Cornwall and western England, and these emi- 
grants settled in the Merrimack valley, in Connecticut and 
in Maine. 

Heckewelder claims that this term was derived from 
the Indian "Yanghees," or "Yanghee," which was their 
pronunciation of English. 

A contributor, G. B. G., sends us the following inci- 
dent : — Our old friend, Edson Eastman, of Concord, N. H., 
publisher of the valuable annual, Dudley Leavitt's Alman- 
ac, tells a good story at his own expense, anent that publi- 
cation. Being at Rye Beach he was desirous to take boat 
for Portsmouth and indulge in the pastime of fishing on the 
way. But the old fisherman could not be induced to go out 
with him. He had a little crop of hay to get in. Our 
friend would buy the hay, but no, he could not sell it. Mr. 
Eastman entered the fisherman's cottage with him, and see- 
ing a copy of Leavitt's Almanac hanging on the wall, he 
casually remarked that he was the publisher of that work. 
The fisherman turned and looked at him with wonder and 


admiration. "Is that so?" said he, in astonishment ap 
parently at the youthful appearance of him whom he had 
always regarded as a venerable sage. Being assured that 
there was no mistake, he immediately concluded that he 
could go a-fishing that day — hay or no hay — and the two 
accordingly set out for the shore. On the way, our friend, 
for the purpose of opening conversation, asked the fisher- 
man if he thought the weather would continue fair. That 
worthy turned, looked at him with much solemnity and 
said, "Sir, you ought to know." Quite abashed, Eastman 
followed in silence for some distance, but, still wishing to 
break the awkwardness of the situation, he at last ventured 
to ask, " Do you think it will be a good day or fishing ? " 
This time the fisherman turned square about, laid down his 
oars and fishing-tackle, looked severely at his interrogator, 
and said with solemn emphasis, " Sir, you ought to know." 
The genial publisher was completely silenced. He followed 
meekly on, and during the rest of the trip did not dare to 
open his mouth. 

Among the special attractions in the March number, 
which we intend shall be larger and better than any issue of 
the Granite State Magazine yet sent out, will be an ar- 
ticle by Mr. John Scales upon the Longfellow Blockhouse 
which stood in Deerfield, and we believe was the last build- 
ing of its kind between the seacoast and the Canadian fron- 
tier. Miss Marston, of New York, has furnished us with a 
fine original drawing of the building to accompany the ar- 
ticle. Prof. Thyng is preparing an article, "The Harvests 
of the Orchards," to be illustrated by original drawings 
frrom half a dozen of his pupils in the Manchester high 
school. The third part in our Merrimack River article will 
describe the first survey of the river by Thomas Gardner in 
1752. Frederick Myron Colby will contribute an article 
upon Four Warner Houses. 




Bt tfje jfalls of J^amos&eag 

By Allbn Eastman Cross 

When Samuel Blodget predicted that ancient Derryfield was one day "destined to 
become the Manchester of America," he stood by the falls of Amoskeag. There was the 
power that made possible a great manufacturing city. It has seemed to me that there was no 
theme more vital to the growth of the city of Manchester, or more poetic in its suggestiveness, 
than these same falls. I have, therefore, woven their legend and history into verse, calling 
them by their former Indian name, the Falls of Namoskeag. — Author. 

Three souls shall meet in our gracious river, 
The soul of the mountains, stanch and free, 

The soul of the Indian, " Lake of the Spirit," 
And the infinite soul of the shining sea. 

One hath its birth by the granite mountain, 
Where a mighty face looks out alone, 

Across the world and adown the ages, 

Like the face of the Christ in the living stone. 

One flows from the water of Winnipesaukee, 

Bearing ever where it may glide, 
As the Indians named that beautiful water, 

" The smile of the Spirit " upon its tide. 

And the soul of the sea is at Little Harbor, 
Or Strawberry Bank of the olden time, 

Where first DeMonts and his dreaming voyageurs 
Sailed in quest of a golden clime. 

'Tis said that Power is the soul of our river, 
Plunging down from the gulfs and glooms 

Of its mountain valleys to fall in splendor, 
Or drive the belts of the myriad looms. 

To some the soul of the stream is Beauty. 

That pours from its beautiful lake above 
In silver ripples and golden eddies, 

Like the seer's stream from the throne of love. 

97- </ S 


And once, to this stream with its double burden, 

There came a soul akin to his own ; 
The heart of the river was in his preaching; 

The voice of the ripples was in his tone ; 

And he stood by the falls in the golden weather, 

Under the elm leaves, mirrored brown 
In the pictured waters, and told his hearers 

How the Heart of the stars and the stream came down, 

As a little child to its mother's bosom, 

With a wonder at hatred in his eyes, 
And an image of peace from the one Great Spirit 

Like the light in the stream from the glowing skies. 

And e'en while he spake, as the stream in its flowing 
Takes tints of the twilight and jeweled gleams 

Of the oak and maple, on Eliot's spirit 
Lay heavenly visions and starry dreams, 

And with only the chant of the falls in the silence, 
While the nets and the spears uncared for lay, 

Again as of old the Christ was standing 
By the lodges of Bassaconaway. 

An hundred times had the glistening salmon 
Flashed in the falls since that sunset hour; 

An hundred times had the black ducks flying 
Followed the stream ; and the Spirit of Power 

That sleeps in the river, still waited to welcome 
A heart like its own to reveal again, 

As Eliot uttered its beautiful spirit, 
Its soul of power to the souls of men. 

The wands of the willow are deeper amber, 
The coral buds of the maple bloom ; 

The alders redden, the wind flowers blossom, 
And sunshine follows the winter's gloom. 

■TY,.».-'.'4Wjjpp'A. 'jJL '«. 


V 1 




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ft j$ 

Mm*£ i 


The smile of the spirit is still on the waters, 

The chime on the stones of the Namoskeag fall, 

But the soul of the hills as it leaps to the ocean 
To freedom and valor seems to call. 

At the door of his mill, by the swirl of the rapids, 

Feeling the spirit that subtly thrills, 
From the spray of the falls like an exhalation, 

Is resting our hero of the hills. 

He had won the name when he ran the gantlet, 

Bursting the Indian lines in twain, 
Or made his foray to save his comrades 

Through the frozen forests of far Champlain. 

Now the swish of the saw and the creak of the timber, 
And the swirl of the rapids alone he heard, 

When sudden — a clatter of hoofs down the river — 
A horseman, a shout, and the rallying word 

Of yesterday's fighting by Concord river, 
Of the blood on the green of Lexington — 

That was all! yet the mill gate fell, and the miller, 
Left the saw to rust in the cut, and was gone. 

'Twas the word of the Lord through the Merrimack valley, 
From Derryfield down to Pawtucket's fall, 

That rang from his lips, to rise and to follow, 
As the leader thundered his rallying call. 

' Twas the sword of the Lord from the leader's scabbard 

That flashed in defiance of British wrong, 
As the rallying farmers galloped after 

Riding to Medford a thousand strong. 

A golden cycle of years has vanished 

Since the Derryfield minute-man left his mill 

To lead the patriots down the valley 

To "the old rail fence " on Bunker Hill. 


103 ~0*j 

The years flow on and sweep in their flowing 

Legend and life to the infinite sea — 
A city stands by the grave of the hero, 

Where the lodges and camps were wont to be. 

Unchanged and changeless flows the river, 
But blended now with its ceaseless chime 

Is the rhythmic beating of mighty hammers, 
And a hum like the bees in summer time. 

But the hum of the looms and the clank of the hammers, 
Will hush to the chime of the Sabbath bells, 

While the soul of the stream from the Lake of the Spirit 
The story of Eliot's Master tells. 

The years flow on like the flowing river, 

With peaceful eddies and daring falls 
But if ever the life of the state is perilled, 

If duty summons or country calls, 

The soul of the hills and the stream will waken 

As it woke in the ancient minute-men, 
And the hearts of the sons like the hearts of the fathers 

Will bleed for their cbuntry's life again. 



. . 

45ramte <£tate ^Saga^me 

Vol. 1. MARCH, 1906. No. 3. 

J|on. Sonatfjan HongMoto 

A Pioneer of Early New Hampshire. 

By John Scales, A. B.. A. M. 

ONATHAN LONGFELLOW was born May 23, 

y*^ 1 7 i 4j at Hampton Falls; he died in 1774 at Machi- 

s^SJ? as > ^ e, > so ^ e was on ^y s ^ xt y y ears old, but dur- 
ing those three score years he was one of the 
busiest men in New Hampshire. His father, Nathan Long- 
fellow, was born in 1690, the youngest of six children, being 
born while his father, Ensign William Longfellow, was 
away on a military expedition, under Governor Phips, to 
capture Quebec. They did not capture that city, but 
instead lost some of the fleet by shipwreck on Anticosti 
Island, and also several lives were lost, among whom was 
Ensign Longfellow. 

William Longfellow was born at Horsforth, Eng., in 
165 1, so when he died in 1690 he was not quite forty years 
old. He came to Newbury, Mass., about 1670, and mar- 
ried Ann Sewall in 1678 and resided at Newbury the rest 
of his years, engaged in trade, keeping a store at the first 
falls of Parker river, at the head of tide water in that town. 
Concerning his ancestors in England, the Rev. Robert 
Collyer wrote an interesting article a few years ago. Mr. 
Collyer had recently visited the poet, Henry Wadsworth 
Longfellow, which visit caused him to write of the poet's 
early ancestors in England, who lived in the same section 
of the country as Collyer's ancestors. In passing it may 



be well to state that the great poet was fifth in descent 
from the immigrant William, through Stephen Longfellow, 
the blacksmith ; Stephen Longfellow, the schoolmaster ; 
Stephen Longfellow, the judge; and Stephen Longfellow, 
one of Maine's great lawyers. Henry Wadsworth Long- 
fellow's grandfather, Stephen the Judge, was cousin 
to Jonathan the Judge, the subject of this paper. William 
Longfellow, the immigrant, was son of William, grandson 
of Edward, great-grandson of Thomas and great-great- 
grandson of Percival Longfellow, who was born about A. D. 
1500. Rev. Robert Collyer, English born, but one of the 
greatest preachers America has had, often visited the 
poet Longfellow. After one of these visits he wrote : 

" One reason for our meetings was that we might wan- 
der together in thought through the green lanes, past the 
neat hedgerows and over the grassy meadows that were 
familiar to the feet of his ancestors three hundred years 
ago. I had sat in the same old churches they did ; I had 
wondered, as they had, at the old warrior in his armor of 
chain mail; I had stood at the same font at which the 
child (William the immigrant) was baptized, from whom 
our good poet had sprung ; and in the old churchyard the 
dust of his forefathers lay side by side with that of mine. 

"The old home was Ilkley, in Yorkshire. I have 
copies of the old charters and surveys of the town that date 
back almost to the Conquest, but no Longfellow appears 
before 15 10, and then within ten miles of Ilkley. Those 
Longfellows were simply sons of the soil. The first one 
mentioned was a day laborer, and he paid four pence as his 
share to help Henry VIII. fight against France. Later 
those Longfellows became church wardens and overseers 
of highways, and gradually climbed to higher places. 

"Those ancient Longfellows were as purely bits of 
nature as the oaks in the woods or the heather on the hill- 
side. They had a certain old Saxon insistence upon what 
they believed was their right. They believed that game 
belonged to them as much as to the great lords and land- 


owners, hence the Longfellows were leaders in raids on 
game. It was the fight of the Saxon against the Norman. 
Our Longfellow is the flower of all the centuries of his 
family history, and he makes the race immortal." 

Jonathan Longfellow's mother was Mary Green, 
daughter of Capt. Jacob Green and grand-daughter of 
Judge Henry Green, who was the earliest owner of the 
falls, at Hampton Falls river, where he built and the family 
for four generations owned a gris-tmill and a saw-mill, where 
now are the mills owned by Mrs. John W. Dodge. It was 
in the house near these mills that Jonathan Longfellow was 
born. Henry Green held various offices in the town and 
province, being Justice of the Court of Common Sessions ; 
Royal Councellor, 1 685-1698, and Chief Justice of the 
Court of Common Pleas, 1697-1698. His son, Capt. Jacob 
Green, was prominent in town affairs and captain of a mili- 
tary company from 1699 to 1720, a period when the Indians 
and French made the office of captain anything but a sine- 
cure position. 

Jonathan Longfellow's grandmother, Ann Sewall, was 
sister to Judge Samuel Sewall, one of Massachusetts' most 
distinguished jurists of Jthe Colonial period. She was born 
while her parents were on the voyage across the Atlantic, 
it being their second passage. Her father, Henry Sewall, 
Jr., and grandfather, Henry Sewall, Sr, were the chief men 
in founding Newbury, Mass., being very wealthy and 
staunch Puritans. Ann Sewall's great grandfather, Henry 
Sewall, was mayor of Coventry, Eng., 1 589-1606, being a 
very wealthy linen draper, whose ancestry is traced back to 
before the Conquest, to a Saxon Thane who spelled his 
name "Saswald," and owned great possessions in lands and 
at the place of his residence built and owned a church. 
Mayor Sewall died in 1628. 

Such were the ancestors of Jonathan Longfellow. He 
was a well-born, thoroughbred Englishman. Being the 
eldest of Nathan Longfellow's children, he was the pet of 
his grandfather, Capt. Jacob Green, and at an early age 


was instructed in the management of the grist-mill and the 
saw-mill, which the captain owned at the Falls, and his edu- 
cation otherwise was carefully looked after. When Jona- 
than was twelve years old his grandfather died, leaving the 
larger part of his large property to his daughter, Mary 
Longfellow. When Jonathan was seventeen years old his 
father died, which entailed large business interests on the 
widow, but she managed all with skill and good judgment, 
being assisted by her oldest son, Jonathan. A few months 
before he was eighteen years old he became united in mar- 
riage with Mercy Clark, who was of the same age as him- 
self. They commenced housekeeping with his mother, and 
he managed the mills and the farm. Thus nearly ten years 
of his life was passed, busily and happily, and he was known 
as "Jonathan Longfellow, the Miller." 

Just a few lines about Mercy Clark, his wife. She was 
born in Newbury, Mass., December 26, 1714, where she 
resided till she married and settled at Hampton Falls. 
She was a daughter of Mr. Henry Clark and his wife, 
Elizabeth Greenleaf. Henry was the son of Ensign Na- 
thaniel Clark of Rowley and Elizabeth Somerby, his wife. 
Nathaniel was naval officer at Newbury and Salem for sev- 
eral years. He was ensign of the Rowley company of 
militia, which went with Sir William Phips on the expedi- 
tion to Quebec in 1690, the same in which Ensign William 
Longfellow lost his life. While at sea, before reaching the 
St. Lawrence river, Ensign Clark lost his life by accident. 

Mercy Clark's mother, Elizabeth Greenleaf, was a 
daughter of Capt. Stephen Greenleaf, Jr., and Elizabeth 
Gerrish, his wife; and he was the son of Capt. Stephen 
Greenleaf, Sr., and his wife, Elizabeth Coffin, daughter of 
Judge Tristram Coffin of Newbury and Nantucket. Cap- 
tain Stephen, Sr., commanded a company of Newbury men 
in Sir William Phips' expedition of 1690, already men- 
tioned. He was shipwrecked on Anticosti Island, with 
Ensign Longfellow, but managed to get home alive. 
These Greenleafs were distinguished in military and civil 


affairs in the Massachusetts Bay Colony. John Greenleaf 
Whittier, the poet, was a great-grandson of Capt. Stephen 
Greenleaf, Jr. Such were the ancestors of Mercy Clark 

Mary Green Longfellow died about 1741, and her 
death made it necessary to divide the property which had 
been held nearly intact from the death of her father, Capt. 
Jacob Green, in 1726. Soon after the death of his mother, 
Jonathan Longfellow's name appears in the records relat- 
ing to Nottingham, and for more than a score of years he 
resided in that part of the town now Deerfield, but which 
was not made a separate town till he had removed to Rye. 
He was a land speculator and was one of the active pro- 
moters in settling the town of Nottingham, together with 
the Bartletts, the Cilleys, the Batchelders, the Butlers, the 
Marstons and other noted families of that town, in its 
early history. Soon after going there his name appears as 
an officer of the militia, which was required to keep guard 
against attacks by Indians, and before he left the town he 
had risen to be captain. The first thing he had to do, when 
he went to Nottingham to settle, was to build a garrison, 
which he located on a little hill on the opposite side of the 
road from the present Marston residence, about half a mile 
below Deerfield Parade. This location was then on the 
frontier of civilization. Between that and Canada on the 
north there was not the habitation of a white man. Through 
that .vast wilderness the Indians and their Canadian allies, 
the French, ruthless foes of the English settlements, came 
and were ever on the watch, during that period, to strike 
blows of destruction or to inflict as much loss of property 
as possible. Hence it is plain to be seen that Captain 
Longfellow and his brave wife had no easy task on that 
frontier guard -line. They were young people then, just 
past thirty years of age, with a family of six children, the 
eldest being ten years old. Accompanying this article is a 
picture of that old garrison, which was torn down only a 
few years ago. A brief description of it may as well 


be given here. It was built about 1743. It was bought, 
with the farm, from Longfellow, by Simon Marston of 
Hampton, who removed to it in 1765, and has remained in 
possession of the Marston family during the one hundred 
and forty years since then, being now owned by Miss Laura 
A. Marston, who has very kindly furnished the drawing 
which appears with this article, and who has also assisted 
the writer in furnishing data for the description. The garri- 
son was the first house built in what is now Deerfield. The 
farm, one of the best in town, was first owned by a Mr. 
Leavitt, for about six months, who then sold it to Jonathan 
Longfellow, receiving in payment a certain number of 
Negro slaves. Where Longfellow got the slaves, or how he 
happened to be dealing in such property the writer has not 
been able to find out ; but the probability is that they came 
from Africa on some of those Newburyport or Salem ships 
which exported New England rum to the Dark Continent 
and exchanged it for young Negroes. Sometimes the ship 
masters carried their cargoes of black men and women to 
the West Indies and exchanged them for sugar and 
molasses, which they brought home. At other times they 
brought them home direct and sold them in Massachusetts 
and New Hampshire towns. From 1740 till after the close 
of the Revolution slaves were owned in nearly all the larger 
towns in New Hampshire. Captain Longfellow, being an 
enterprising and hustling business man, bought and sold 
the slaves. He did not give all he had to Leavitt, as he 
had some left after he built and dwelt in the garrison. His 
sons-in-law, Joseph Cilley and Nathaniel Batchelder, had 
some of them after he had removed from the town. Some 
of the descendants of those slaves live in Exeter now, 
worthy citizens, unmindful of their ancestry. 

The garrison house was very long and wide, but rather 
low story. It had three large rooms and two smaller bed- 
rooms on the first floor; ascent to the roof was made 
through the immense garret by ladders, from which obser- 
vations could be made to all points of compass, to watch 


the approach of any enemy. The garret was used for a 
general storeroom, and for sleeping apartments when the 
guests were numerous, as, no doubt, they often times 
were. The walls were made of hewn timbers, of great size. 
The rooms, except the kitchen, were ceiled at the top and 
sides with sheathing, sawed from old timber pines of im- 
mense size. In the period of Indian wars it had a stock- 
ade which enclosed a large yard ; these timbers standing on 
end reached above the eaves of the house, so nothing 
of the outer world could be seen. There was a large gate 
to the stockade for admittance to the yard. When this was 
closed it was fastened on the inside with a strong bar, so 
everything was safe when that was closed. This yard would 
enclose teams, if necessary ; it had sheltered many a family 
in time of danger from the Indians. At one time a family 
living in the vicinity of Rand's Corner, by the name of Bat- 
chelder, was forced to flee to this garrison. The family con- 
sisted of a husband, wife and two children. One bright moon- 
light night, while the husband and children slept, the wife 
sat by the fire knitting; she heard a noise in front of the 
house, which sounded suspicious. She hastily covered the 
fire with ashes, blew out the candle and awakened her hus- 
band with the least possible noise. In a few moments a 
noise at the front door indicated plainly that the Indians 
were about the house. Knowing that it would be folly to 
attempt to defend their home, they wrapped the younger 
child in blankets and took the older by the hands and, seiz- 
ing the trusty gun, they quietly made their escape through 
the back door to the forest near at hand, and hastened to 
the Longfellow garrison. They succeeded in getting inside 
of that big gate and barred it securely, though the wife was 
nearly exhausted. Their house was burned by the Indians, 
but they found a safe shelter at the garrison, together with 
several other families who had suffered in the same Indian 

Col. Joseph Cilley, who was born in 1793, was grand- 
son of General Joseph and Sarah Longfellow Cilley. She 


died in 1811, so that he remembered his grandmother per- 
fectly. Colonel Cilley lived to be past ninety years of age, 
and in his later days delighted to talk of his grandmother. 
He said he had visited the old garrison with her, in which 
she lived during Indian times with her parents. One thing 
that impressed his boyish mind strongly was the huge chim- 
ney, with the immense fireplaces, in the corners of which 
one or two could sit comfortably. The kitchen had a 
dresser, so called, which filled the place of the modern side- 
board. Its capacious shelves were filled with shining pew- 
ter platters and plates and other household utensils. The 
floors were sanded with white sea sand and were kept 
scrupulously clean. When company was to be entertained 
the white sand was switched into pretty figures with hem- 
lock brooms, by the skillful hands of the housewife or her 

During the period from 1745 to 1760 the Indians made 
frequent raids in that territory, stealing or killing cattle and 
horses. They cut the flesh from the bones and cut out 
the tongues, which they cured in smoke to preserve for 
food on their travels. Frequently it was dangerous for 
housewives to go out to milk the cows unless they had a 
man on guard with a trusty gun. When one neighbor vis- 
ited another an armed man had to go with her for pro- 

From the Nottingham town records it appears that, 
"At a meeting of the Proprietors, held at the block house 
(on the Square), September 8, 1742, Mr. Jonathan Longfel- 
low was chosen Assessor for the Proprietors, and Lieut. 
Joseph Cilley, Collector." These gentlemen continued to 
hold those offices for several years in succession. Later 
they were brothers-in-law, Lieutenant Cilley' s son, Joseph, 
the famous colonel of the Revolution, marrying Mr. Long- 
fellow's daughter, Sarah, November 4, 1756. 

Again, August 12, 1752, the records say: "Ensign 
Jonathan Longfellow was elected one of the Selectmen ; 
also was appointed one of a committee to treat with author- 


ities of the town of Durham relative to building a highway 
from Nottingham Square to Durham village." 

Frequently, in 1747, 1748 and 1749, the Provincial Gov- 
ernment stationed soldiers at Longfellow's garrison and 
placed him in command. It was their duty to range back 
and forth over a line fifteen miles in length, through the 
forests from Rochester to Chester, and to give protection 
to the farmers. Sometimes as many as thirty soldiers were 
on duty. The following from the Provincial Records will 
give an idea of how Gov. Benning Wentworth and his 
Councillors conducted the war with the Indians and French. 
It is copied from the Journal of the House. 

"Saturday 29th August, 1747. Whereas Capt. Jon- 
athan Longfellow, by a warrant from ye Governor has In- 
listed thirty men to go out after ye Indians, upon ye Scalp 
bounty. But representing to the House that ye men can- 
not furnish themselves wth Provisions and Ammunition, 
therefore : 

"Voted, That s d Longfellow be supplied with one 
month's Provisions & fifteen pounds of powder & thirty 
Pounds of Bullets for s d men, he to receive the Provisions 
from Coll. Gilman at Exeter, s d Longfellow to give a Rec 1 
for ye same & to account and pay therefor if it appears Y* 
be not used, or if the men recover any scalps, ye price of ye 
Provisions and Ammunition to be deducted out of ye 
Bounty on ye Scalps, & y* Said Longfellow keep a Journal 
of -ye Time & Travel, while he is out on this affair, to be 
rendered to ye Gen 1 Assembly on Oath." 

The writer has not been able to find a copy of Captain 
Longfellow's journal nor any statement of how many 
Indian ^scalps were captured and the amount of bounty 

Captain Longfellow was one of the first to start a 
movement which resulted in the division of the town of 
Nottingham, and the incorporation of the town of Deer- 
field. The act of incorporation was not granted till January 
8, 1766, at which time Mr. Longfellow was in Machias, Me., 


having left New Hampshire two years before that. The 
first petition for it is dated "Nottingham, Febry 23, 1756;" 
the first signer is Jonathan Longfellow ; among the other 
signers appears the name of Green Longfellow, a younger 
brother of Jonathan, who was then about twenty-five years 
old, having been born April 3, 173 1. The petition was 
probably drawn by Mr. Longfellow and its arguments are 
strong and well expressed, the point of it all being that the 
inhabitants of the Deerfield parish were not allowed to use 
their money raised by taxation "for Preaching the Gospel 
and teaching the Children, which are matters of Great im- 
portance to all His Majesties Good Subjects, etc." 

Mr. Longfellow removed from Nottingham to Rye 
about 1761, leaving two of his daughters, Mary and Sarah, 
who had married respectively Nathaniel Batchelder and 
Joseph Cilley, and a son, Jacob, and a brother, Green Long- 
fellow. Mary Longfellow Batchelder, above mentioned, is 
the writer's great-grandmother, being the grandmother of 
his mother, Betsey True Scales. Not much is known of 
his life at Rye. 

Captain Longfellow removed from Rye, N. H., to 
Cornwallis, Nova Scotia, in 1764, where he remained one 
year. In 1765 they sent for him to cross over the bay to 
Machias, Me., to build a grist-mill and a saw-mill, locally 
called the "Dublin" mills. He knew all about that sort of 
work from his early training and experience at Hampton 
Falls, where he had been trained by his father and grand- 
father. What induced him to emigrate from New Hamp- 
shire to Nova Scotia is not known by any of his descend- 
ants. After settling in Machias he remained there till his 
death, in 1774. He brought with him to Machias his wife 
and three youngest sons, Daniel, David and Jonathan, 
aged respectively sixteen, fourteen and nine years. Two or 
three of his children remained at Cornwallis. There were 
twelve in all, seven sons and five daughters. The first-born 
was Stephen, 19 July, 1731 ; the last-born was Jonathan, 
28 April, 1756, who died young at Machias. Descendants 


of two sons, Nathan, born 30 December, 1743, and Daniel, 
born 16 December, 1751, are living in Machias and other 
parts of eastern Maine at this time. 

Captain Longfellow built the mills and run them and 
took a leading part in town affairs, holding at one time or 
another all of the important town offices. In 1768 he was 
commissioned by the Governor of Massachusetts a justice, 
and held the first court ever held in Maine, east of the 
Penobscot river. The court records of Judge Longfellow 
are extant at Machias, and manifest knowledge of law and 
wisdom and mercy in administering it. He was moderator 
of the first proprietary meeting of the town of Machias, 
nth September, 1770, and was one of their leading men till 
his death, four years later. 

According to tradition, Judge Longfellow was a tall, 
well-proportioned, fine-looking man. He possessed superior 
mental powers and was a man of great executive ability as 
a business manager. He was an extensive landowner in 
Nottingham and was reputed to be very wealthy, as men 
then ranked in riches. He disposed of all of his holdings 
in that town before going to Nova Scotia. That he was 
esteemed by his immediate descendants is manifest by the 
fact that grandsons, great-grandsons, and great-great-grand- 
sons were named for him, Jonathan Longfellow, in families 
not otherwise bearing the Longfellow name. 


By Elizabeth Cums-BRiNTON. 

Above the hollow on the hill, 

Beyond the river and the town 
The stars came out how clear and still : 

The winter sun went bravely down 
A full half hour ago, and yet 

The sky at the horizon's rim 
Glows like an emerald, richly set 

That night must wear awhile for him. 

Cfce Way* of the Wila 

By the Author of " The Woodranger Tales." 

Oh ! ! the mystical glory that crowns the woods, 

Reflected in river and lake, 
Like a fire that bums thro' the firs and ferns, 

By the paths that the wild deer take. 


F THE adventurous spirits who left their native 
land across the ocean to found for themselves 
^£&%> homes in the wilds of aboriginal New England, 
there was not one whose life afforded a larger 
meed of romance, and closer communion with Nature 
than the Scottish refugee who sought peace and solace here 
from the feverish unrest of his bitter experiences in early 
life. Losing not only friends and loved ones, even his name 
vanished, like the bloom upon the alder, and his identity 
became a mystery. 

At one time hunting and scouting along the banks of 
the winding Saco, with which all secrets were safe, he was 
known to the few whites who crossed his trackless path by 
his Indian nom de plume of "Wiscowan the Wanderer." 
Again, amid the wilderness of the North, where for months 
he was swallowed up in the heart of the great greenwood, 
he was designated " Taconica the Forester." Linking, at 
times, his fortunes with Rogers, Stark and others of the 
Rangers of the Merrimack valley, he was pleasantly 
remembered as "The Woodranger." 

Sitting by his campfire, wrapped in the silence of his 
own comradeship, it was natural this nomad should come to 
read the signs of the solitude as no novice in wildwood life 
could possibly teach himself to utter, his mind yet busy with 
the reflections of former activities. To this honest-minded 



dweller of the tented forest each passing breeze, as it 
loitered with the loving birch or kissed with soft lips the 
finger tips of the lordly pine, bore some wonderful message 
from the borderland of the Great Unknown, and each mur- 
muring rivulet a song of love and hope. Coming at rare 
intervals into the companionship of some of his race, his 
long-prisoned thoughts were sure to break their chains and 
spring into expression of rude philosophy rendered more 
impressive by the quaint language in which they were 
couched. The following excerpt is taken from "The 
Keepers of the Wilderness," which details a few of his 
earlier experiences. At the time he was the guide and pro- 
tector of a small party of fugitives fleeing from the wily 
red men lying in wait for them where least expected. 
These persons had halted for a needed rest upon the shores 
of a small body of water then known as " Uncannebe," 
but since re-christened " Lovewell's Pond." 

" Here is a good place to rest awhile, and partake of 
the cheer which comes of a hearty will to eat, especially if 
there be viands to meet such forces. There is a restful 
cheer to the cedar which the spruce does not afford, though 
tired nature does not % distrust the feathers of the spruce. 
The cedar was a favorite with the Indians, and its fine 
boughs were looked upon as 'down,' while the coarser 
ones of the spruce were compared to feathers. As usual 
the red man did not err in his judgment." 

The words of the strange scout, usually conveying a 
soothing effect upon the minds of his hearers, at this time 
caused them to forget something of the dread uncertainty 
hanging over them, and they ate with lighter hearts than 
they had known for several days. Even the children over- 
came their fretfulness as they saw the countenances of 
their companions lighten. The boy named Roland, upon 
invitation, crept to the side of Wiscowan the Wanderer, 
who helped him to some of the choicest bits of the meat. 
He had caught a nap since their stop here, resting upon a 
couch of cedar down, which the latter had brought him. 


When the simple meal had been eaten Wiscowan arose 
to his feet, looking longingly into the wide be!t of forest 
encircling them. The boy, as if expecting he was about 
to leave him, clasped his arms around one of his legs to 
hinder his escape. These the scout gently unloosed, say- 
ing as he did so : 

"I must say that duck was savory, and it has put new 
life into my old limbs. But I am not unmindful that the 
rest of you have had greater burdens to bear. So while 
the weak and wounded mend a leetle longer under your 
watchful eye, lad, I will perambulate the forest a bit. It 
may be I can find a shorter way out of this amazement. 
At any rate it will be no great indiscretion." 

Looking down one of the aisles set with pillars of 
mighty pines, Wiscowan the Wanderer remarked : 

" If I read the sign as it was taught me I see the trac- 
ings of a deer's path winding away from the rim of yon 
water where, peradventure, many of the creatures have 
come to drink in the days gone by. I hail it as a good 

" To me these forest paths are the ways to Nature's 
heart. Though not overwell versed in her secrets^ I have 
observed many kinds of paths, as there are many tongues 
leading from lip to ear ; the bear's, the wolf's, the beaver's, 
the coon's, the deer's, and the pathless trail of the red man, 
in all of which I read a distinguishing sign. In the path of 
the bear there is a frankness, an open-heartedness not to be 
found in any other. He dares the sunlight, the open coun- 
try, and goes shambling across the clearing, over rocky 
places it may be, but is never afraid you will find his track. 
Then there is the wolf that goes zig-zagging in dark cor- 
ners, fearful lest his shadows mark a traiL Between these 
runs the path o' the deer, straight as the arrow flies, it may 
be, but neither over the rocks nor under the tangled brush- 
wood. He eats as he runs of the sweet-tasting boughs and 
leaves a clear-cut trail. 


" Unlike the four-footed path makers the brown-skinned 
hunter breaks no bough by his wayside, turns no rock in 
the stream he follows, howe'er much it may thump his 
canoe, and leaves behind him a path as trackless as that 
which runs before. It speaks of his close association with 
Nature. Ay, where winds the light steps of the brown- 
skin, the bird loses no note of its song, nor the four-footed 
creature a syllable of its talk. How different it is along the 
road of civilized man, where you miss the song of the birds, 
the merry greetings of the timid people of the trees, and 
what you may gain — mind you, I say with proper discre- 
tion — in distance you have lost in the welcome of Nature. 

" Aweel, nows me, I cherish the memory of the forest 
path winding over hummocks made slippery by a carpet of 
pine needles, over table-lands of rock whose rough surface 
is coated with gray moss, across gullies concealed by brown 
layers of oak leaves, rising over some sharp hillock, or anon 
dipping into vales where the hazel or the juniper holds out a 
friendly hand to him who clasps it, but slapping him in the 
face if he forgets this little courtesy ; a path not too well 
worn, for that mark is a danger token, constantly revealing 
some new surprise, uRtil we find ourselves in the little clear- 
ing, not too big but large enough to afford a crown of dainty 
wildwood flowers that look innocently into your face and 
say, * We bloomed for you alone, while our sisters along the 
broad road of civilization are the common property of the 
multitude.' There you are sure to find, like the fountain of 
life bubbling up from the rocks, a fount of sparkling 
water, sweet nectar for the nymphs that they say dwell in 
such spots. I remember such a path as this, not quite for- 
gotten, yet not too vivid in my mind, and while I move on 
with blundering steps it reminds me of the pathway of life, 
filled with pleasant places, broken here and there in most 
astonishing ways by rough jolts. If dim at certain cross- 
ings where it meets others, or trampled heavy where we 
stumbled, it winds on uphill and down, until it branches at 
last into the long trail of eternity." 

'Stffje Ufarbest of tfje Orrfjarb 

By J. Warren Thyng 
Iflustrated by Pupils of the Manchester High School 


HE apple from ages far remote in history has fig- 
ured in allegory and poetic fancy. And although, 
on its way down through the centuries, it may at 
times seemed to have waited too long at the mill, it is 
a dull eye that sees nothing between its May day bloom 
and the hayneld jug. 

The learned Doctor Wardner declared that the fabled 
Fountain of Hygeia might be with propriety located in an 

Solomon asked to be comforted with apples. Pliny 
asserted that some apples ennobled the countries from 
which they came, and "immortalized their first founders 
and inventors." The same writer mentions twenty-nine 
different varieties cultvated in Italy about the commence- 
ment of the Christian era. 

It is by no means certain that the apples of the Wise 
Man's desire were not oranges or citrons or some other sub- 
tropical fruit. Some commentators suggest that the word 
apple, in the Bible, is used in a general sense, and whenever 
it occurs it may mean fruit other than the apple as we know 
it. When tracing the etymology of the word it is easy 
to be misled by the translations of Greek and Hebrew 

It is thought by some that the apple was known to the 
Britons before the advent of the Romans. It is written 
that in 973 King Edgar, when fatigued, sat down in the 
shade of a wild apple tree ; so it becomes a question whether 
this plant was not a native of England, where it was found 




^ fefe^-,jfe*:#.-^*;; 



• fe 



Drawn by Pupils of the Manchester High School. 



growing wild and apparently indigenous. Thornton, in his 
history of Turkey, says that apples are common in Walacia, 
and cites, among other varieties, one which is, perhaps, the 
finest in Europe for its size, flavor and color. 

It was very early discovered, by those interested in 
horticulture, that apples belong to the class of culture 
plants. It is a remarkable fact, in the study of botany, 
that while there are plants that show no tendency to change 
from the natural type, even when brought under the highest 
culture, and subjected to every treatment which human 
ingenuity can suggest, there are others prone to variations 
even in their normal condition. 

It is evident that the favorite fruit of our ancestors has 
undergone a marvelous change since the days of Solomon, 
and that centuries have passed since the apple, as it is 
known to-day, has been raised to a fair state of perfection. 

The native country of the apple, though not definitely 
settled, is conceded to be Europe, particularly its southern 
portions and perhaps Western Asia. Our native crabapple, 
though showing some slight variations, has never departed 
from its strongly marked normal type. Ingrafting appears 
to have been practiced*in the time of Pliny. 

A strange silence pervades the pages of history con- 
cerning the first use of apple juice as a beverage; and it 
is not until 1597, when John Gerard issued a history of 
plants, that cider appears on record. This writer's descrip- 
tions of the apples of his time will apply fairly well to many 
varieties raised in New Hampshire orchards. He distin- 
guishes between wild apples and "tame or grafted apples." 
Furthermore, the same author says : " I have seen pastures 
and hedge-rows about the grounds of a worshipful gentle- 
man's dwelling, two miles from Hereford, so many trees of 
all sorts, that the servants drinke, for the moste parte, no 
other drinke but that which is made from apples." The 
effect of age upon the beverage, however, is not noted by 
this writer. Nor in the annals of his time are there pic- 
tures of cider bibbers reeling homeward from a friendly 


cellar with noise and brawl. Mythology, in bronze and 
marble, holds up shameless Satyrs, jovial with the grape, 
but never a reveller at the cider-tap figures in the panels of 
high art. No caryatides in classic marble shoulders a 
cider keg. 

Some writer fancies that voices of people in different 
parts of the world are significant of the fruit and beverages 
of which they have for ages partaken. He associates the 
soft voices of southerners with the mellow fruits and seduc- 
tively smooth wines of their warmer climate, while it is 
thought that the less melodious and often strident tones of 
people of colder latitudes have in them a suggestion of 
sourer fruits and coarser beverages. 

Gerard, who wrote enthusiastically upon apple cultiva- 
tion, mentions a queer cosmetic among other products of 
the orchard. "There is," said he, "an ointment made with 
the pulp of apples and swines' grease and rose water and 
used to beautify the face." 

Scholars will recall Virgil's advice: 

" Graft the tender shoot, 
Thy children's children shall enjoy the fruit." 

Most of our first orchards were planted with imported 
trees. The colonists brought both plants and seeds. Even 
now we have apples designated as English, to indicate that 
they are thought to be of better quality than native fruit. 

The Indians, that is the aborigines, while they set out 
no trees — let it be put down to their credit — destroyed 
none. They are unknown in the apple line until long after 
the white man planted orchards and gathered the reward. 
Somebody, poking among traditions, found savages making 
sugar by dropping red hot rocks into maple sap, but nobody 
has placed him on record as a cider-maker. No doubt the 
red man would have cut something of a figure after imbib- 
ing strong water squeezed from wild apples. 

As a matter of fact, Indians when discovered by white 
settlers had no orchards. After a while they took mildly 


to planting apple trees, and remains of old Indian orchards 
are sometimes found. 

The government at one time distributed apple seeds 
among the Cherokees. The early French settlers were 
famous tree planters, and traces of their work can be found 
across the continent, from the St. Lawrence to the Gulf of 
Mexico. They set out apple trees at their posts or settle- 

Following the story of the apple along, one is sure to 
overtake, now and then, some unique character, some pictur- 
esque person fitting, as it were, into the poetical side of the 
subject. Such a one was Johnny Apple Seed. A good- 
natured, generous-hearted fellow. He had no home. Some- 
times he wandered in dull Ohio roads that drag their weary 
way over duller flats, and on through ague-haunted fells. 
Then he drifted away, nobody knew where. At times he 
would live with the Indians; then appear at a far-distant 
settlement, only to disappear as mysteriously as he came. 

About this time the renowned " Log Cabin Campaign " 
ran wild in the middle west. Now and then, down in Indi- 
ana, Johnny would fall in with a procession of Whigs ; then 
he would join the roaring line and could be heard with the 
crowd singing a stave of the one-time famous rallying song, 

" When This Old Hat Was New." 

Although his wandering had no particular direction, 
he had a purpose, the accomplishment of which left traces 
a century will not efface. He carried a stout bag in which 
he had seeds of the best apples he could get. Along the 
way, as he travelled, he planted the seeds in appropriate 
places. Trees, springing from his unpaid work, grew and 
bore fruit years after Johnny Apple Seed passed away. 

What nobler chaplet does he need 

Than woven wreath of orchard bloom ! 

May kindly light his footsteps lead 
Where now garnered harvests wait 

For nameless Johnny Apple Seed. 


The cider mill constructed by our forefathers was 
doubtless patterned after the machinery used in England at 
the time, and is still employed in some parts of the Old 
World. This mill was a circular trough around which a 
stone weighing a ton was dragged by a horse. Ten or 
twelve bushels of apples would be thrown into the trough 
and the rock kept in motion until the apples were finely 
ground. This style of apparatus soon gave place to the 
kind of mill used by farmers half a century ago. This 
was a rectangular box, with upright posts at the middle of 
each side, fitted at the upper end with a cross piece to sup- 
port the nuts, one of which extended far enough above to 
allow the attachment of the sweep by which a horse, slowly 
walking in its orbit, communicated motion to the machine. 
This process of grinding apples, although slow, had a pecu- 
liar advantage. It allowed the pulp to become slightly 
oxygenated, giving cider a richer color than that produced 
from apples ground in "improved" mills. The primitive 
mill usually stood in the orchard, the press, perhaps, under 
a roof. After a while the whole affair came to be shut up 
in a shed. From that time the old cider mill lost much of 
its sentimental interest. Even the horse, walking his mo- 
notonous round, when lost to sight, lost the picture part of 
his occupation. Sometimes, on a neglected road that leads 
among abandoned farms, and on past deserted houses, may 
be seen out in the orchard a heap of broken and mossy tim- 
ber marking the place where once a mill ground the apples 
of a prosperous neighborhood. 

Nowhere in the wide world does the apple tree bloom 
in such beauty as it does on our New Hampshire hills, and 
nowhere is its fruit finer. Although the hundred-headed 
dragon that waits under apple trees in the Garden of 
Hesperides may be said to symbolize the peril that lurks in 
apple-jack ; still, harmless memories cluster about the 
old striped pitcher that sat among sputtering apples on the 
hearths of ancestral fireplaces. 

{(■ >^rr'v Vs r tP « rin r^^«^- 

^-if^if^a^A. -. - 




Drawn by Pupils of Manchester High School. 



Dried apples make mighty poor pies, but strings of 
them, drying in the warm autumn sun by the door of a 
farmhouse, will stir up thoughts that one will lovingly cher- 
ish — or painfully regret — as recollection runs along those 
rosaries of yellow apple quarters. 

" The years are heavy with weary sounds, 
And their discord life's sweet music drowns : 

And I lean at times in a sad, sweet dream, 
To the babbling of the mountain stream ; 

And sit in a visioned autumn still, 
In the sunny cheer of the cider mill." 

By L. Lavima Verrill. 

Beneath the giant oaks to lie and dream 
And watch the river dimple in the sun, 
While portly turtles, slowly one by one, 
Climb to the logs half floating in the stream. 

Across the marshes rise the willows tall, 
And from their branches, in the praise of spring, 
An eager-hearted bird begins to sing 
With liquid notes that softly rise and fall. 

The rustling wind sweeps through the hemlock trees, 
And underneath, just pushing through the moss, 
The first green leaves, with sunlight gleams across, 
Dance gaily in the coming of the breeze. 

$ancp Priest t©akefteib 

The Story of her Poem, "Over the River they Beckon tome." 

By George Bancroft Griffith. 

'T is a curious fact that the most famous songs and 
short poems have constituted, as a rule, their 
fc& author's sole claim to more than ephemeral note. 
John Howard Payne little dreamed that his "Home, 
Sweet Home" would become almost the dearest and most 
familiar verses in the English language. Not one person 
in a hundred can tell even the name of the writer of "My 
Country, Tis of Thee," and Samuel Woodworth doubtless 
supposed his fame would rest upon his longer, but shallower, 
productions rather than upon his simple apostrophe to a 
common bucket. But all the poems mentioned immediately 
appeal to our gentler and tenderer nature, to memories and 
affections that are now, in our busy lives, rarely called into 
play/and each author, too, must have unconsciously sounded 
the deepest chords of his own life. 

Between the years 1855 an d 1859 no less than five 
poems under the title of " Over the River" appeared in 
New England publications, two of which were much above 
the average in merit, and one won for its author undying 
fame. All of these poems bore a family resemblance, yet 
not sufficient to indicate that the writer of either had ever 
seen the others or either of them; each differing from the 
others in rythm and meter, in thought and treatment, and in 
mechanical execution. The three referred to were issued 
some forty years ago, and anonymously, in a broadsheet, by 
Hon. Clark Jillson, of Worcester, Mass. A few lines of 
explanation accompanied the poems, but no history was 
given of either, yet many of the judge's friends believed 
that he himself composed the earliest of these verses, 




which appeared in the Boston True Flag of July 7, 1855. 
We are told that he was given to such things in those days, 
but it was subsequently learned that the poem was written 
by Annie Maria Lawrence, of Still River, Mass. The sec- 
ond poem under consideration appeared in the Trumpet and 
Universalist Magazine, Boston, in 1859, and was written by 
Anna M. Bates, a native of Hooksett, N. H., a charming ver- 
sifier, who died about twenty years ago. But the poem 
"Over the River," which won its way to the popular heart 
entirely on its own merits, also produced in New Hampshire, 
and suggested by the beautiful scenery, was written by Nancy 
A. W. Priest, under the nom de plume of " Lizzie Lincoln," 
and originally appeared in the Springfield (Mass.) Republican, 
in August, 1857. 

Nancy A. W. Priest Wakefield was born in Royalston, 
Mass., December 7, 1836, and died at Bartonsville, Vt., 
May 28, 1869, leaving three children, the youngest but 
twenty-nine days old. Her parents were poor, hard-work- 
ing people, and unable to give her more than the most 
meagre advantages of education, a defect which she always 
deeply regretted, and made strenuous efforts to remedy. 
That she possessed real genius her writings sufficiently evi- 
dence, and she began to write poetry at the age of six 
years. Although born and inured through all her early 
days to poverty and toil, yet she was also an heir to 

" A wish that she hardly dared to own, 
For something better than she had known." 

Her early education was only that of a country district 
school, but her desire for reading was very great and she 
improved every spare moment for that purpose. It was the 
oft-repeated story re-enacted, "of the pursuit of knowledge 
under difficulties." But while she did not neglect the more 
valuable sources of information, the natural temper of her 
mind, and inclinations of her heart, led her to prefer the 
poets for her companions, and the "sweet witchery of 
song" brightened many a weary hour. Of her own first 


effusions she disliked to speak, or have her parents show 
them to her friends, apparently doing so with something 
the feeling of a culprit, who had been guilty of a folly. To 
illustrate the value which money possessed to her childish 
mind, she was first induced to part with a copy of her 
verses to an uncle, for the compensation of a half dime. 
An epitaph upon a tombstone in Winchendon cemetery, 
composed by her before she was twelve years old, was 
probably her first appearance in print. 

For three years Miss Priest worked for self-support in 
a paper mill in Hinsdale, N. H., from daylight to dark. It 
was while at work there, at the noon hour, on a certain 
stormy April day, after she had partaken of her simple 
lunch, that she sat by the open window looking across the 
Ashuelot river, then swollen and rapid with the rain, whose 
waters at their brightest are somewhat bronzed, and com- 
pared it, in her mind, with the solemn river which sepa- 
rates two worlds. After musing thus for a time, without 
any previous premeditation or intention, she picked up the 
piece of brown paper in which her humble meal had been 
wrapped, from the rough floor, and wrote for the Ages, — 


Over the river they beckon to me, — 

Loved ones who've crossed to the further side ; 
The gleam of their snowy robes I see, 

But their voices are lost in the rushing tide. 
There's one with ringlets of sunny gold, 

And eyes, the reflection of heaven's own blue ; 
He crossed in the twilight gray and cold, 

And the pale mist hid him from mortal view ; 
We saw not the angels who met him there, 

The gates of the city we could not see, — 
Over the river, over the river, 

My brother stands waiting to welcome me ! 

Over the river the boatman pale 

Carried another, the household pet ; 
Her brown curls wave in the gentle gale, 

Darling Minnie ! I see her yet. 



She crossed on her bosom her dimpled hands, 

And fearlessly entered the phantom bark, 
We felt it glide from the silver sands, 

And all our sunshine grew strangely dark ; 
We know she is safe on the further side, 

Where all the ransomed and angels be; 
Over the river, the mystic river, 

My childhood's idol is waiting for me. 

For none return from those quiet shores, 

Who cross with the boatman cold and pale ; 
We hear the dip of the golden oars, 

jAnd catch a gleam of the snowy sail ; 
And lo ! they have passed from our yearning heart, 

They cross the stream and are gone for aye. 
We may not sunder the veil apart 

That hides from our vision the gates of day, 
We only know that their barks no more 

May sail with us o'er life's stormy sea; 
Yet somewhere I know on the unseen shore 

They watch, and beckon, and wait for me. 

And I sit and think when the sunset's gold 

Is flushing river and hill and shore, 
I shall one day stand by the water cold 

And list for the sound of the boatman's oar ; 
I shall watch for a gleam of the flapping sail, 

I shall hear the boat as it gains the strand, 
I shall pass from sight with the boatman pale, 

To the better shore of the spirit land ; 
I shall know the loved who have gone before, 

And joyfully sweet will the meeting be, 
When over the river, the peaceful river, 

The Angel of Death shall carry me. 

Carelessly dropping this wonderful poetic gem into the 
pocket of the dress she wore, Miss Priest returned to her 
arduous labors. It is said that her mother, when about to 
wash the garment, felt the crumpled scrap in its hidden 
corner and, taking it out, with difficulty deciphered the 
rapidly written but precious lines pencilled thereon. On 
returning that night from the mill, her daughter acknowl- 
edged the authorship of the poem, but hesitated to have it 
printed, although strongly urged to do so by a ministerial 


friend who was greatly struck with the beauty and sweet- 
ness of the lines. As before stated it came to light 
through the columns of the Springfield Republican, which 
then had a poet for an editor. To its purity and simplicity, 
its great melody and beautiful rythm, the sympathies and 
impulses of the public responded instantly. Almost liter- 
ally she lay down to rest unknown, and awoke to find her- 
self famous. But fame does not bring bread, and so the 
girl, whom all the papers were praising, toiled on in the 
paper mill. Everybody who knew her was surprised by the 
poem, but nobody as much as she. Governor Haile, by 
whom she was at one time employed, told the late Rev. 
Silas Ketchum, — to whose printed notes the writer is some- 
what indebted, — friends had never before thought her capa- 
ble of such things. He described her as very retiring, 
even to shyness, and like Nathaniel Hawthorne, naturally 
reticent and uncommunicative, having few intimate acquaint- 
ances; sober-minded, diligent, self-reliant and trustworthy. 
" Over the River " was copied by the newspaper press 
throughout this country and England, and, in fact, the 
inquiry as to the origin of the famous lines has not yet 
ceased. The increasing number of appreciative readers 
treasure it among choice things ; young girls in white 
dresses still recite it on exhibition days to admiring audi- 
ences ; even ministers enrich with it the oratory of the pul- 
pit. In i860 Asa B. Hutchinson set the words to music, 
and the " Family," alas ! now reduced to a single member — 
having themselves gone "Over the River," the Mystic 
River — sung it to tens of thousands of delighted hearers, 
who listened with hushed breath and applauded with their 

At the age of twenty-two, Nancy Priest struggled 
against the adventitious circumstances of her position to fit 
herself for a teacher, and the thousands who had been so 
greatly touched by the high poetic expression, as well as 
the marked sweetness and strength of her latest produc- 
tions, sympathized with her yearnings and gave her sub- 



stantial support. Her marriage with Arlington C. Wake- 
field occurred in 1865. I n the spring of 1883 a volume of 
her poems, entitled, "Over the River, and Other Poems," 
was published by her mother, Mrs. Sophia B. Priest, of 
Winchendon, Mass. 

It has been truly said that in Nancy Priest's "Over the 
River" the hopes of many wounded souls have been borne 
to the ear of Pity, and it was very fitting that in voices 
burdened with sobs it was chanted at the open grave of the 
author, as loving hands lowered her remains to that rest 
among the green hills of Vermont, in that flower-decked 
and quiet church-yard, that "shall know no waking till the 
heavens be no more." 

Co Hake Bsajuam 

By Walter S. Peasleb 

iEgean seas are wondrous fair, 

And Como's waters clear; 
Killarney's lakes, far-famed in song, 

To Irish hearts are dear. 
But girted round by northern hills, 

The fairest waters play 
That e'er a summer sunset tinged 

With gold at close of day. 

I sit beside thee on the shore ; 

The wind's low monotone 
Among the pine boughs overhead, 

Is mingled with thine own. 
The magic of its gentle art 

Makes youthful fancies spring, 
And now once more, as when a child, 

I hear the fairies sing. 

The unseen locust's shrill refrain, 

The air's dull, hazy hue, 
The fleecy clouds that lightly float 

In thy cerulean blue, 
The graceful waterfowl that sail 

Upon thy sparkling breast, 
All make a rhythmic pastoral 

That lulls my soul to rest. 


I close mine eyes, the weary years 

Roll backward and away, 
To bring instead the old-time scenes, 

The meadows and the May ; 
The fragrance of the early flowers, 

The bird-songs by the brooks, 
Come floating back to me again 

From out thy shady nooks. 

The cottage where I used to dwell, 

The lattice and the vines, 
Where bloomed in happy summer-time 

The rose and columbines. 
The little schoolhouse by the road, 

The willows and the pool, 
The mysteries of the woodland glades, 

The shadows dim and cool. 

I wonder if to one dear friend 

Those shadows seem the same 
As when upon the gnarled old beech 

I rudely carved her name ! 
I hear the music of her voice, 

Her face and form I see, 
I feel her light touch on my arm, — 

Has she forgotten me ? 

comrades of the distant past, 
Beloved in days of yore, 

When of the pages in life's book 
So few were written o'er ! 

1 live with thee again to-day, 

By shore and shimmering wave, 
And hear thy voices mingled with 
The water's lap and lave. 

Fair Asquam, nestling in thy vale, 

Where all is peace and rest, 
Whose islands on thy bosom sleep 

As on a mother's breast ! 
I dream by thee till evening shades 

Upon thy waves I see, 
Then turn from thy beatitudes 

To leave my peace with thee. 

W 4t'P 

' tTt\ ^5*** v ^ cv * 





* * 




Story of Its First Survey 

By George Waldo Browne 

fj^f* FEW years since a most interesting document 
S2k was found among the old papers of Essex county, 
^£<^L which is undoubtedly the oldest map or plan of 
the Merrimack valley in existence. 

It is inscribed as follows : 

" Plat of Meremack River from ye See up to Wenepe- 
soce Pond, also the Corses from Dunstable to Penny-cook. 
Jno. Gardner." 

While without date or explanatory papers, it is evi- 
dently the plan of the first survey of the Merrimack River 
from the sea to its source. This survey was probably made 
in 1638, as May 22, 1639, we find the court allowing one 
Woodward the sum of three pounds "for his journey to 
discover the running of the Merrimack," while four others 
who went with him were allowed " 5s. a day apiece." The 
Governor and his deputies, evidently thinking the principal 
in the affair had been insufficiently paid, ordered him ten 
shillings more. This is in accordance with an order of the 
General Court of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, made in 
July, 1638, which authorized the above-mentioned Wood- 
ward, with three others besides an Indian guide, "to lay 
out the line three miles northward of the most northermost 
part of Merrimack." 

The name of John Gardner does not appear in either 
order, but the identity of the surveyor and his important 
connection with the expedition is clearly shown by the local 
records. He was the son of Thomas Gardner, who was 
born in 1592, and whose ancestral home was evidently in 




Dorsetshire, Eng., though it has been claimed that he came 
to this country from Scotland. 

For further particulars of the connection of these fam- 
ilies see Dr. Gardner's valuable article published by the 
Salem Institute, Historical Collection, Vol. XXXVII, en- 
titled, "Thomas Gardner, Planter, and Some of His De- 

He had connected himself with a body of men in Dor- 
chester, known afterward as "The Cape Ann Planters," 
but styled then as "The Dorchester Company," who had 
organized to settle a colony on Cape Ann. This company 
landed in 1624, on the west side of what is now known as 
Gloucester harbor, but it proved that the soil and the advan- 
tages of the place were unequal to forming a successful 
plantation. The leaders of the company, who were still in 
England, discredited the unpopular report, and secured in 
Roger Conant a new manager for the colony. 

But he soon came to dislike the place as much as the 
others, and in 1626 our Thomas Gardner obtained permis- 
sion to remove the little disheartened colony to the mouth 
of Naumkeag river. Some of the most discouraged re- 
turned in their disappointment to their native land, but the 
boldest and most sanguine, under the efficient leadership of 
Thomas Gardner, entered upon their new venture with 
earnest purpose, and this hardy little band became the 
founders of Salem. As has been aptly remarked, scant 
credit has been bestowed upon them by the historians of 
early New England. In his capacity as overseer of the 
plantation at Cape Ann, Thomas Gardner was in truth the 
first man in authority within that territory, since widely 
known as "The Massachusetts Bay Colony." He was one 
of the original members of the first church in Salem; he 
was made a free man in 1637, and also elected a deputy to 
the General Court. For many years prominent in the 
affairs of the growing commonwealth, he died in 1674, leav- 
ing an estate of several hnndred acres of land, considerable 
of it obtained from grants received for public services. 


His wife is supposed to have been a sister of the famous 
Puritan divine, Rev. John White. 

John Gardner, the surveyor and justice, was born in 
1624, of this parentage, in the year of the landing of the 
Cape Ann Planters in the new country. This was four 
years before the coming of Endicott. The first mention of 
his name was made in the records of the General Court at 
Boston, in 1639, when "The treasurer was ordered to pay 
John Gardner 20s for witness charge & carrying Goodman 
Woodward his instruments to Ipswich." It will thus be 
seen that he early became acquainted with that work he so 
often undertook later in life. This, it will be observed, was 
the year following the survey of the Merrimack, and it is 
quite certain that young Gardner was a chain bearer for 
Surveyor Woodward, upon that first survey of the Merri- 
mack, though his name is not mentioned. This does not 
destroy the evidence, however, as the names of Woodward's 
companions are not all given in the records. If one were 
omitted it would be most likely that of the boy of the expe- 
dition, though that same lad was to become afterwards the 
means of perpetuating the results of that undertaking. 

In the following years the name of John Gardner 
appears quite frequently in the records of those times as 
surveyor, juror, selectman and as justice of the peace for a 
long period. He lived for many years in a house standing 
on what is. now Essex street, well down toward the water. 
He married Priscilla Grafton, daughter of Joseph Grafton 
of Salem, and a prominent family in Colonial days. She 
was the mother of six daughters and one son, dying, it is 
believed, in 17 17. 

John Gardner died in 1706, full of years and honors, 
and was buried in the burial ground on "Forefather's Hill," 
near the present pumping station. According to Dr. Gard- 
ner's article, already referred to, " the original gravestone is 
still in existence, but is kept at present in the old Coffin 
house known as the ' horse-shoe house.' " This stone, which 
had marked the spot for seventy-five years, was removed for 



preservation in 1881, and was replaced by a substantial 
granite stone with the following inscription, a copy of the 
original: "Here lyes buried ye body of John Gardner, Esq., 
aged 82 who died May, 1706." 

Having said so much of the actors in the affairs, let us 
glance at the situation and the causes which led to the^ sur- 
vey. Endicott, already selected by the London Company 
to be Governor of the colony, arrived in 1628. The Gen- 
eral Court of London had anticipated the permanent organ- 
ization of the colonists by declaring: "That thirteen of 
such as shall be reputed the most wyse, honest, expert and 
discreet persons, residents upon the Plantaceon, shall have 
the sole managing and ordering of the government and our 
affairs there, who to the best of their judgment are to 
endeavor to settle the same as they may make most for the 
Glory of God, the furtherance and advancement of this 
hopeful Plantaceon, the comfort, encouragement and future 
benefit of us and others, the beginners and promoters of 
this so laudable worke." 

Unfortunately the records of those early years are 
lost, but future events show conclusively that the colo- 
nists lived fully up to the demands and expectations of the 
promoters of the settlement. The choice of John Endicott 
for governor proved a happy one, and no doubt insured 
much toward the ultimate success of the enterprise. It has 
been well said that "possessing positive traits of character, 
"unflinching firmness united with great executive ability, he 
overcame difficulties that beset him on every side, and suc- 
ceeded in the accomplishment of the most important trust 
ever entrusted to any one person, the laying of the founda- 
tion and shaping the institutions of the New World." 

As paradoxical as it may seem at this day, in the course 
of a decade the colonists represented themselves as 
"straightened for the want of land." Hubbard, the his- 
torian of those times, says that Ipswich was so overrun 
with people that they swarmed to other places. Out of the 
demand for "further farms" came the order by the courts in 


1638 to explore the valley of the Merrimack river to the 
limits of the northern boundary supposed to have been 
fixed by charter granted to the Massachusetts Bay Com- 
pany. According to the records of the company this was 
as follows : 

"Bounds of that part of New England, in America, 
which lies and extends between a great river there com- 
monly called 'Monoack' alias ' Meremack ' & a certain 
other river there called Charles river, being in the bottom 
of a certain bay here commonly called Massachusetts bay 
& also all and singular those lands and here diaments what- 
soever lying within the space of three English miles on the 
south part of said Charles River, &c. 

"And also all singular the lands and pereditaments 
whatsoever which lie, & be within the space of three Eng- 
lish miles to the Northward of said river Called 'Mono- 
mack,' alias 'Merrymack,' or to the northward of any and 
every part thereof : And all lands &c. lying within the limit 
aforesaid, &c, &c." 

As yet the colonists could have had only the most 
vague conceptions concerning the course of the river which 
had been selected to become the continuous guide by which 
to establish the northern boundary. That it was necessary 
to carry out such a survey is evident, and the inhabitants of 
Naumkeag were especially anxious to further this explor- 
ation, as well as the survey of the unknown regions beyond 
them. That it was an undertaking fraught with danger did 
not for a moment cause those adventurous spirits to hesi- 
tate. Already had new plantations been established as far 
as Agawam, now Springfield, on the west, and Casco Bay 
settlement on the east. The only thing to hinder them 
from laying out new plantations in the desirable territory 
of the Merrimack valley was the settlement of the line. 
Accordingly, in answer to a petition from them, the Gen- 
eral Court at Boston, on July 6, 1638, voted that "Good- 
man Woodward, Mr. John Stretton, with an Indian and two 
others appointed by the Magistrates of Ipswich, are to lay 



out the line 3 miles northward of the most Northermost 
part of Merrimack, for which they are to have 5s a day a 

The survey, which occupied about two weeks of time, 
was doubtless performed early in the fall of the same year, 
but unfortunately no special account of the journey through 
the trackless wilderness has been handed down. That it 
was filled with arduous labor and accomplished to the satis- 
faction of the court there is no doubt. The brave little 
party penetrated so far north that the shore of Lake 
Winnipesaukee is marked in the plan or plot, the earliest 
drawing of the Merrimack, with its taibutaries. 

From this plan the committee selected to pass upon 
the settlement of the matter fixed the northern line at a big 
pine tree standing three miles north of the Winnipesaukee 
and Pemigewasset rivers. This tree became known as 
Endicott's Tree, and as late as 1737, during the vexatious 
trial at the noted court at Salisbury, August 8, the conclu- 
sions of the evidence rested upon "a certain tree commonly 
known for more than seventy years past by the name of 
Endicott's Tree, standing three miles northward of the part- 
ing of the Merrimack river," to establish the boundary. 
Notwithstanding this no one ever seemed to be able to tell 
just where it stood, and as a matter of fact it was of little 
if any account as a bound. 

Even allowing this to be the case, it does not diminish 
the value of this survey, for upon this was based the calcu- 
lations leading to the better known and more permanent 
work performed by men composing the expedition of 1652, 
when it became necessary to repeat this survey by the four 
whose names have been handed down to history as the suc- 
cessful operators of an undertaking not removed from dan- 
ger and difficulty at this date. No doubt at this the Wood- 
ward survey was reviewed and the old plan brought forth 
from its pigeon hole. Some claim the plot now in existence 
is a copy of the original made as late as 1668 or 1669, but 
does it not seem probable that it was made at this time, 



granting it is a copy? It being done by John Gardner 
shows that he must have been familiar with the subject, 
and it does not seem at all reasonable that he accompanied 
the party, as young as he was at this time, a boy about fif- 
teen. It is certain that he had already been an assistant to 
Goodman Woodward, and whom would the latter be more 
likely to take as a companion and helper on this trip than 
the nimble, brave-hearted lad that we know John Gardner 
to have been ? Be it as it may, the work of a boy or a man, 
it shows commendable accuracy and completeness of detail. 
A reference map shows that the first tributary is that 
of "Samon Brook." I follow the original spelling and cap- 
italization, while what is known as Nashua river is given as 
"Canister river." The next stream marked is Nanticook 
in Merrimack, which is spelled here "pennychok," while a 
little above the Souhegan is indicated under its correct 
orthography. One of the several minor tributaries coming 
from Litchfield is here set down under the name of " Nay- 
cancoke," which today is called Messenteau. Above this 
is "Cakusek," which can be made to stand for Cohas, while 
the Massabesic pond is indicated in the distance. This, as 
far as I know, is the first official mention of the name as 
applied to this body of water. The Piscataquog is very 
well traced under the name of "Perscataquay." Two coni- 
cal shapes in the distance mark the " occonanauch " moun- 
tains, which may or may not be construed to read Unca- 
noonuc mountains. The falls of the Merrimack is noted 
under the name of " Amuskeeg," and a little above is Black 
brook. Above this is traced a small stream without a name, 
while beyond the latter the bold escarpment at the present 
town of Hooksett, now known as the " lookout," was indi- 
cated by a name difficult to decipher, but which may have 
been intended to mean "Lone Hawk Hill." A little above 
this, on the right, Suncook river is marked unmistakably 
under the spelling of '• Sunckeok." Then, again on the 
right, is given the small stream rising in Turtle pond, East 
Concord, the source of this brook being marked. On the 


left, a little above this, is given the small stream that con- 
nects Horse Shoe pond with the Merrimack. Just above 
the junction of another small stream, which was evidently 
that forming the outlet of Penacook pond, is found the 
word " Penychook," which may have been intended to 
denote Jhe site of the old ancient Indian settlement in this 
vicinity, of the brook. Then comes under the spelling of 
"Pacuneshu," "Contoocook River," traced to two sources, 
one of these being marked simply "mountains," and the 
other on the north designated as "Carasaga mountain." 
This last no doubt meant what is now meant as Kearsarge 
mountain, and from this word is now claimed to have come 
the present name. A place that might apply to the plains 
of Boscawen is dignified with the designation of " brave 
land," a spot so associated with the memory of the ancient 
Amerinds for some especial reason. A few miles above 
this place the Winnipesaukee and Pemigewasset rivers is 
marked, the last traced for some distance, while the former, 
designated as " Winepisocke River," is followed to the great 
lake, here set down as " Winp. Pond." 

These constitute the configurations of the outline map, 
there being no white man's hamlet to note on the entire 
distance, but only an unbroken wilderness and its primeval 
features. Such in brief comprises the accounts of the first 
survey of the Merrimack. All calculations in regard to 
the country must have been based upon this survey, until 
on May 31, 1652, the court ordered Captains Willard and 
Johnson to undertake their work in establishing the north- 
ern line of the Massachusetts jurisdiction. 

Origin of Ctiber ^ames in Berlin 

By Bailey K. Davis 

HE first stream above Berlin Falls has never been 
known by any other name than the Bean brook, 
probably from the fact that about that time Benja- 
min Bean commenced a farm in the township of Success, 
and lived there many years. This brook crossing his farm 
received the name of the first settler. If there ever was 
an Indian name it has been forgotten. The next stream is 
now locally known as the Home brook. It takes its rise in 
and east of the township of Success. It crosses the first 
farm ever settled in the town of Berlin, which was settled 
by William Sessions in 1824, and is now known as the Tomp- 
son farm owned by the Berlin Mills Company. Tradition 
says the name of this brook is Mollocket. Before this 
country was settled by white men the Androscoggin river 
was the great thoroughfare of the Indians from Canada to 
the seacoast. As long ago as 1800 to 1810 an aged Indian 
woman, by the name of Molly Ackett, used to make fre- 
quent pilgrimages from the seacoast to Canada. As she 
was the last of her race to hunt up and down this river, 
the probability is that the early white hunters and trappers 
gave her name to this brook. 

The next stream above, in Milan and known as the Chan- 
dler brook, takes its rise in the mountains east of Milan, 
and its Indian name was Nulliekunjewa, which tradition 
says means " great fishing brook." At any rate this brook 
has always been remarkable as a wonderful place for trout. 
It will hardly be credited at the present time that forty or 
fifty years ago it was no uncommon thing for two boys to 
catch from four to six hundred beautiful trout in a day. 

About the year 1823 or 1824, one Isaac Stearns built a 
saw-mill on this brook, near where the carriage road now 



crosses it, and for a number of years supplied Milan with 
lumber. Later a grist-mill was added and for many years 
this stream was known as the Stearns brook. Still later 
the mill was purchased and operated by Henry Paine and 
was known as the Paine brook. 

About the year 1850 Hazen Chandler and others pur- 
chased the township of Success, through which this stream 
runs, and erected a saw-mill and later a larger mill, doing 
quite an extensive business in lumber, since which time 
this brook has been locally known as Chandler brook. 

The next stream, known as the Leavitt stream, takes 
its name from the following sad affair, which occurred in 
the winter of 181 8: 

There were then no settlements in Milan or Berlin, 
but Moses Robbins had commenced a farm on Milan Hill, 
east of Cedar pond, coming in by way of the Connecticut 
river, as there was no road on the Androscoggin north of 
Shelburne. Two boys, William Home and Edmund Leavitt, 
started to run away from their home in Stark. Their plan 
was to come through the woods to the Androscoggin, then 
follow down to the settlements in Shelburne. On account 
of the depth of snow they were much longer in getting to 
the river than they had anticipated. Night overtook them 
before they reached the river, and when they did they 
found about eight inches of water on the ice. They wore 
shoes and their feet were very cold, but they followed on 
■ down the river till they began to hear the roar of the falls. 
This frighened them so much that they concluded to retrace 
their steps and endeavor to reach home if possible. Some 
loggers, whose camp was on the Chandler brook not more 
than half a mile from the Androscoggin, thought they 
heard some one halloo, returned an answering shout and 
one of the men took an axe and began to chop, well know- 
ing that the sound of an axe can be heard as far as the 
human voice. Hearing nothing more the lumbermen con- 
cluded they were mistaken. This crew were the only 
human beings on the river nearer than Shelburne, fifteen 


miles away, and the boys having no knowledge of them lost 
their only chance of safety. On reaching the mouth of 
the Leavitt stream, Edmund Leavitt was completely ex- 
hausted and could go no farther, but sat down in the snow. 
After several unsuccessful attempts to get him started 
again, the Home boy left him, thinking to secure help and 
send for him. At length he succeeded, after many trials, 
in reaching the Robbins place and telling the sad tale. 
Mr. Robbins and others immediately started to the rescue, 
but, alas ! too late to save the boy's life, for when found he 
was frozen stiff. Since that time the brook has been known 
as the Leavitt stream, If there ever was an Indian name 
it has been lost. 

There is still another brook or stream emptying its 
waters into the Androscoggin river in Milan, known by its 
Indian name Chickwoloppy. Late writers spell it Chich- 
wolneppy, but all the people of the first part of this cen- 
tury spelled it Chickwolloppy as first given, and it was said 
to mean "frog-water," this being the only stream in the 
vicinity which takes its rise in a pond. 

This pond is now popularly known as Success pond or 
Silver lake, formerly remarkable for its trout, many having 
been caught in past years weighing from four to six pounds 
each. It was also the site of the largest beaver dam ever 
found in this northern country. The outlines of this re- 
markable structure can still be plainly traced after a lapse 
of nearly eighty years since it was first seen by white men. 
It is a beautiful sheet of water one mile long by three- 
fourths of a mile wide and surrounded by wild mountain 
scenery hardly equalled by any of our northern lakes. 

Cfje abator's TOnboto 

In connection with Professor Thyng's valuable article 
upon "The Harvest of the Orchard," the following account 
of the native countries of the different apples growing in 
our orchards seems of special interest: Gravenstein has 
come to us from the groves of Old Holstein ; the Sops of 
Wine, from the banks of the storied Rhine ; the Red Astra- 
chan, from the frozen tundras of Northern Russia; and the 
hardy Tetofsky, farther yet, from the snowy steppes of 
Siberia. The Pearmain is a native of Old England, and one 
of its ancestors may have been the tree under which King 
Edward sought rest from the fatigue of one of his long 
marches ; the Bellflower reigned as queen over the fruits of 
the picturesque Channel Islands ; the famous Fameuse once 
brightened the orchards of William the Conquerer, said to 
have been brought hither from the land of Odin as the 
fruit of the gods. Among our native apples are to be men- 
tioned the Northern Spy, of Rochester, N, Y.; the King, 
an offering from the Genesee valley, where in the days of 
aboriginal supremacy the lordly Iroquois cultivated their 
great orchards and vast fields of golden grain ; the Ben 
Davis is a native of the Sunny South ; the Greening from 
the state of Roger Williams; the Golden Russet, of Rox- 
bury, Mass.; the Nonesuch, of Hubbardston, Mass.; the 
Baldwin, of Woburn, Mass.; the Red Russet, of Hampton 
Falls, N. H. 

It is related that in the days gone by, when slavery 
existed in this state, a certain minister had a faithful slave 
named Pompey, who always attended church. One sultry 
Sunday, as the minister was in the midst of his sermon, he 
noticed occasionally some missiles, apparently thrown by 
some one, strike several sleepers, who were thereby awak- 
ened. On watching closely he saw they were thrown by 
Pompey who, on being discovered, shouted out : "You 'tend 
to yo' preaching, Massa, and I'll keep 'em awake." 




Cfje ^totes "43ooM2tgfjt" 

By George Bancroft Griffith 

It was fitting, perhaps, that our gifted poet should have found inspira- 
tion at the fountain of Swiss simplicity and patriotism for his immortal 
tribute to the sweet hour of sunset. New Hampshire has been frequently- 
styled " The Switzerland of America," and while this comparison may 
seem more poetical than truthful to many, there is, I think, a closer affinity 
linking the hearts of their widely separated people than that which sug- 
gests the similarity of those ragged mountains, the trade-marks of liberty. 
Our esteemed contributor has endeared himself to all lovers of the pictur- 
esque scenery of the Granite State, and few poems have received wider 
recognition or beauty in thought and expression than the following mag- 
netic verses, which have become household words in the homes of many 
lands. — Editor. 

Now somber-hued twilight adown the Swiss valley 

Her soft, dewy mantle has silently spread, 
Still kissed by the sun-rays, how grandly and brightly 

The snowy-crowned summits lift far overhead! 

'Tis the sweet "Alpine hour," when the night is descending 
To brood o'er the homes where the cottagers dwell; 

And the sweet Ranz des no longer is blending 
With silence— 'tis evening, the time of farewell. 

And yet once again the huntsman is taking 
His trumpet-toned horn from its hook o'er the door. 

Hark! All the rapt silence its music is waking— 
44 Praise the Lord, God, evermore! evermore I " 
145— J& 



Clear, sharp and distinct, down the mountains repeating, 

In solemn succession voice answereth voice, 
Till e'en the lost chamois will hush his wild bleating, 

And the heart of the forest awake and rejoice. 

Still higher and higher the anthem is ringing, 

It rolls like a paean of triumph above, 
Till ev'ry grand summit and tall peak is singing, 

While bathed in the smile and the halo of love! 

O magical hour! O soul-offered duty! 

So solemn, instructive, its noble refrain; 
What an exquisite scene, when God's rainbow of beauty 

Speaks the language of promise to mortals again! 

And when all the glory of sunset has faded 
From cloud-piercing heights, and the stars twinkle out, 

How mellow the echo of "good-night," repeated 
To ev'ry lone dwelling with musical shout! 

The chain of affection to God and each other 

So perfectly linking and welding aright: 
When fondly the accents— " Hail, neighbor and brother !" 

Melt in the broad air with— "Good-night, friend, 
g-o-o-d - :i-i-g-h-t ! ' ' 


"> :- ' :> \ 

x , 


r*** i 

'si ■MjLSV&il-:: 'MsM. 

Granite J>tate jflSaga^tne 

Vol. I. APRIL, 1906. No. 4. 

By Ezra S. Stearns, A. M. 

UEEN Anne's War, in the annals of New Hamp- 
shire and Massachusetts, was an era of Indian 
raids upon the frontiers and a continued story of 
massacre, captivity and carnage. It was a war of 
innovation. For the first time the Indians were well armed 
and were guided by a superior intelligence. In 1702 Eng- 
land declared war with France, and instantly the frontier 
settlements of New England were menaced by the French 
in Canada. At best the Indians were bad neighbors and a 
treacherous foe, but when instigated, armed and disciplined 
in the arts of war by a cruel and cunning ally they assailed 
the feeble settlements in greater numbers and with renewed 
ferocity. The history of New Hampshire in Queen Anne's 
War has not been fully written. The chapters and stories 
of carnage and suffering found in many historical publica- 
tions collectively do not constitute a completed narrative of 
this gloomy period of New Hampshire annals. 

The details of many incidents, the exact date of many 
events and the names of the persons involved are still 
slumbering in the records and files of the archives of New 
Hampshire and Massachusetts. This chapter will present 
a brief account and attempt to discover the names of the 
men of a single company engaged in the early part of 
Queen Anne's War. Nominally it was a Massachusetts 
company, but many of the men became identified with New 
Hampshire affairs. The original township of Dunstable, 



including the area of several of the present towns of New 
Hampshire and Massachusetts previous to the adjustment 
of the province line in 1741, was a part of Middlesex 
county and under the jurisdiction of Massachusetts. It 
was one of the towns of the Upper or North Middlesex 
Regiment, many years commanded by Col. Jonathan Tyng. 

Early in 1703 William Tyng, a son of Col. Jonathan 
Tyng, was a lieutenant and in command of a squad of men 
in one of the fortified houses of Dunstable. The Indians 
were becoming more active and troublesome in the winter 
season, and in the autumn and early winter marching com- 
panies were fitted out in New Hampshire and Massachu- 
setts for service upon the snow in the winter season. On 
account of the use of snow shoes, the soldiers in the rec- 
ords are often called "snow-shoe men." The first company 
of snow-shoe men was organized at Dunstable and com- 
manded by William Tyng, who was promoted to captain. 
It was a Massachusetts company. It has been claimed by 
many writers that New Hampshire sent out the first snow- 
shoe companies, but in such allegation the dates and order 
of events are overlooked. An original pay-roll of Capt. 
William Tyng's company is not preserved, but the record 
of the payment in a gross sum is found in Massachusetts 
Council Records, Vol. IV, page 20, which gives the date 
and duration of service. "A Muster Roll [the roll miss- 
ing] of the Foot Company under command of Capt. W m 
Tyng, containing account of wages for services from Dec. 
28 to Jany 25. 1703-4 four weeks, £71. — us. including 25s 
to Jonathan Prescott Jun r Chyrurgion for looking after one 
of the men that came home sick." 

The New Hampshire companies commanded by Major 
Hilton and Captains Davis, Chesley and Gilman were paid 
May 25, 1704, and all of the commanders reported to the 
Council January 27, 1704, that they would not be prepared 
to march until after several days. See manuscript Council 
Records, Vol. II, pages 103 and 104, or see printed Provin- 
cial Papers, Vol. II, page 419. 


Hon. Charles J. Fox, in his excellent history of Dun- 
stable, referring to the bounty offered by Massachusetts for 
every Indian slain and quoting from Penhallow says, " Capt. 
Tyng was the first who embraced the tender. He went in 
the depth of winter [i 703-4] to their headquarters [Pequaw- 
kett] and got five [scalps] for which he received two hun- 
dred pounds." In a footnote Fox erroniously asserts that 
this was John Tyng, eldest son of Col. Jonathan Tyng. 
Other writers following Penhallow have called the com- 
mander of the first snow-shoe company Captain Tyng, 
without other designation, while one of good reputation 
finding evidence of the service of William Tyng and noting 
Fox's mention of John Tyng, has written that Capt. Wil- 
liam and Capt. John Tyng both commanded companies in 
the early progress of Queen Anne's War. 

Col. Jonathan Tyng had three sons who grew to man- 

First, John, born in 1673, graduated from Harvard 
University in 1691, and immediately went to England 
where he soon died. 

Second, William, born April 22, 1679, was m tne ser " 
vice almost continuously from 1703 until his death. He 
married Lucy Clark, a daughter of Rev. Thomas Clark, 
and settled in Chelmsford. He was a representative to the 
General Court from that town in 1707, and in the service 
was promoted, 1709, to major. In the summer of 1710, 
while in command of a battalion between Groton and Lan- 
caster, he was mortally wounded by the Indians. He was 
carried to Concord for medical attendance, and there died a 
few days later. This date is confirmed by probate records, 
and in the will of the father, Col. Jonathan Tyng, written 
a few years later, he makes mention of his deceased sons, 
John and William. 

Third, Eleazer, born April 30, 1690, graduated from 
Harvard University in 171 2 and was commissioned colonel 
in 1724. He was an influential and honored citizen of 


Judge John Tyng, of honored memory, who by division 
of the town lived in Tyngsborough, Mass., was a son of 
Major William Tyng. 

Massachusetts, then claiming jurisdiction over a large 
part of New Hampshire, fortified the claim by the grant of 
many townships within the disputed territory, and to pro- 
mote the growth and development of the colony an equal 
number of towns were granted within the area of Massa- 
chusetts. These grants were made in' rapid succession 
about 1735. The Canada townships were granted to the 
soldiers in the expedition to Canada in 1690 ; the Narra- 
gansett Townships, to the soldiers in the Narragansett or 
King's Philips War and the two Lovewell townships, Pem- 
broke, N. H., and Petersham, Mass., to the soldiers who 
served in one or more of the three expeditions commanded 
by Capt. John Lovewell. As a part of these proceedings, 
and on the petition of John Shepley and Ephraim Hildreth, 
a township was granted, in 1735, to the soldiers of the first 
snow-shoe company under Capt. William Tyng. The Gen- 
eral Court provided that there should be sixty grantees or 
proprietors and three public rights or shares, so that each 
of the sixty grantees should own one undivided sixty-third 
part of the township. The General Court appointed a com- 
mittee, consisting of William Dudley of the Council and 
Col. Benjamin Prescott and William Tompson of the 
House, to determine who should be admitted as grantees. 
The committee was instructed to admit forty-six men in 
Tyng's Company, six men who served in one or more of the 
three expeditions under Capt. John Lovewell, and who had 
been omitted in the grants of Pembroke and Petersham, 
and also to admit a few of the soldiers in the Fort Fight or 
Long March of the Narragansett War, to make the num- 
ber of sixty grantees. The township on the east bank of 
the Merrimack river was promptly surveyed and was called 
Tyngstown or Tyng's Township, and included the greater 
part of the area of present Manchester. By the adjust- 
ment of the province line in 1741 the charter became void 


and, to compensate the grantees, Massachusetts gave them 
the township now Wilton, Me. The history of Tyngstown 
during a few years of activity is one of exceeding interest, 
but it is not within the province of this chapter. 

In the admission of grantees the committee of the Gen- 
eral Court first prepared and admitted "A List of the 
Souldiers that went out under the Command of Capt. W m 
Tyng to Winepiscocheag the year 1703." The list of forty- 
four soldiers who became proprietors is found in the Tyngs- 
town Record Book in the office of the city clerk of Man- 
chester. In all, the committee admitted sixty grantees, in- 
cluding themselves. 

In the following abbreviated notices of the sixty 
grantees or proprietors of Tyngstown, the first forty-four 
were soldiers in the first snow-shoe company commanded 
by Capt. William Tyng. No. 45, Judge John Tyng, un- 
doubtedly was admitted on account of the service of his 
father. The credentials of the admission of several other 
grantees are stated. 


1. John Shepley, son of John, was born in Chelms- 
ford, Mass., in 1677. A few years later the family removed 
to Groton, Mass., where the father, mother and all the chil- 
dren except John were killed by the Indians, July 27, 
1694. John, then seventeen years of age, was carried into 
captivity where he remained three and one-half years, when 
he returned to Groton. In memory of the massacre of his 
kindred, undoubtedly he was a willing recruit in Captain 
Tyng's company. Subsequently he was prominent in the 
town and church affairs of Groton. He was a represent- 
ative nine years. He died September 14, 1736. Among 
his descendants is the late Ether Shepley, a former United 
States Senator and Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of 

2. Joseph Parker, Groton, son of Capt. Joseph and 
Margaret Parker, was born in Chelmsford March 30, 1653. 


The family removed to Dunstable in 1675, where Joseph, 
Sr., was a constable seven years. Joseph, Jr., had consider- 
able experience in Indian warfare. He removed from Dun- 
stable to Groton and there died about 1725, leaving a large 

3. Richard Warner, Groton, son of Samuel and Mercy 
(Swan) Warner, was born in Ipswich August 13, 1676. He 
lived in Groton many years. 

4. Nathaniel Woods, Groton, son of Samuel and Alice 
(Rushton) Woods, was born in Groton March 25, 1668. He 
lived in Groton, where he died June 20, 1738. Gen. Henry 
Woods of Pepperell, born September 4, 1733, was a grand- 
son. He was a brother of No. 30, Samuel Woods. 

5. Joseph Blanchard, Dunstable, son of Deacon John 
and Hannah Blanchard, was born in 1669. He was a prom- 
inent citizen of Dunstable, where he died in 1727. His 
son, Hon. Joseph Blanchard, born February 11, 1704, was 
one of the Royal Council of New Hampshire, agent of the 
Masonian Proprietors and a colonel of the French and 
Indian War. 

6. John Cummings, Dunstable, son of John and Eliz- 
abeth (Kinsley) Cummings, was born July 7, 1682. His 
father, John Cummings, was a sergeant when his house 
was assaulted and his wife was killed by the Indians July 3, 
1706. John, the son, lived in Dunstable and later in West- 
ford, where he died April 27, 1759. 

7. Thomas Lund, Dunstable, son of Thomas Lund, 
one of the earliest settlers of Dunstable, was born there 
September 9, 1682. He was slain by the Indians, with 
seven others, at Naticock September 5, 1724. 

8. William Whitney, Groton, son of Joshua and Abi- 
gail (Tarbell) Whitney, was born in Groton February 28, 
1677-8. He lived in Groton until about 1720, when he 
removed to Plainfield, Conn., where he died in 1754. 

9. John Longley, Groton, son of William and Deliver- 
ance (Pease) Longley, was born . At the memorable 

attack upon Groton, July 27, 1694, the father and mother 


and five of their eight children were slain. John and two 
sisters were carried into captivity. John returned to 
Groton in 1698. See John Shepley, No. 1. John Longley 
lived an honored citizen of Groton, where he died May 25, 

10. Joseph Perham, Groton, son of John and Lydia 
(Shepley) Perham, was born in Chelmsford December 22, 
1669. He lived in Dunstable and, by revision of town lines, 
in Nottingham West, now Hudson. At the time of his 
service in Captain Tyng's company he was a resident of 

1 1. Joseph Butterfield, Dunstable, son of Joseph and 
Lydia (Ballard) Butterfield, was born in Chelmsford June 6, 
1680. He removed early in life to Dunstable, living in the 
section of the town now Tyngsborough, where he died in 
1757. His daughter, Deborah, was the wife of Col. Samuel 
Moor of Litchfield. 

12. John Spalding, Chelmsford, son of Andrew and 
Hannah (Jefts) Spalding, was born August 20, 1682. He 
lived through life in Chelmsford. He died March 7, 1760. 

13. John Spalding, Jr., Chelmsford, son of John and 
Hannah (Hale) Spalding, was born in Chelmsford February 
J 5> J 659. Late in life he removed to Plainfield, Conn. 
His son, Samuel, born August 5, 1686, represented his 
father's interests in Tyngstown. 

14. Henry Spalding, Chelmsford, son of Andrew and 
Hannah (Jefts) Spalding, was born November 2, 1680. He 
was a brother of No. 12. He married a, daughter of 
Thomas Lund, Sr. 

15. William Longley, Groton, son of John and Han- 
nah Longley, was born March 12, 1669. 

16. Ebenezer Spalding, Chelmsford, son of Lieut. 
Edward and Margaret (Barrett) Spalding, was born January 
x 3> 1683. He lived in Chelmsford and later in Nottingham 
West, now Hudson. 

17. Samuel Davis, Groton, son of Samuel and Mary 
Davis, was born in Groton January 8, 1669-70. He re- 


moved from Groton to Chelmsford in 1707. Many of his 
descendants have resided in New Hampshire. 

18. Joseph Lakin, Groton, was the son of Ensign John 
and Mary Lakin. He was town clerk and selectman of 
Groton, where he died April 1, 1747. 

19. Nathaniel Blood, Groton, son of Nathaniel and 
Anna (Parker) Blood, was born in Groton, Mass., January 
16, 1679. He resided in Groton and there his nine children 
were born. His oldest son, William, died in the service in 
1759, and his youngest son was a lieutenant in the Revo- 

20. John Holden, Groton, son of Stephen and Han- 
nah H olden, was born in 1683. He was captured by the 
Indians at Groton in 1697 an d remained in captivity nearly 
two years. His father and a brother were captured at the 
same time. John Holden lived in Groton, where he died 
December 27, 1753. 

21. Jonathan Page, Groton, son of John and Faith 
(Dunster) Page, was born in Watertown June 24, 1677. 
His father lived many years in Groton, of which town he 
was a prominent citizen, where he died October 10, 1751. 
His brother, Samuel Page, was the first settler of Lunen- 
burg, Mass., and the ancestor of Gov. John Page of New 

22. Nathaniel Butterfield, Chelmsford, son of Nathan- 
iel and Deborah (Underwood) Butterfield, was born about 
1676. He lived in Chelmsford, where he died in 1749. 

23. Jonathan Butterfield, Chelmsford, was probably a 
son of Nathaniel and Deborah (Underwood) Butterfield, 
and a brother of No. 24. 

24. John Hunt, Billerica, son of Samuel and Ruth 
(Todd) Hunt was born in Billerica in 1680. He lived in the 
part of Billerica now Tewksbury, where he died January 
22, 1740-41. 

( To be continued in the May number) 






Boating Days and River Men 

By George Waldo Browne 

PERIOD in the history of the busy Merrimack 
from the morning of July 17, 1605, when it was 
discovered by De Champlain, to the present date, is 
fraught with more exciting interest than the boat- 
ing days of the first half of this century and immediately 
preceding the appearance on its banks of the iron horse, 
which was to bring such a revolution in the methods of 
traffic. Boston had already become a promising metropolis 
of twenty thousand inhabitants, while all along the north- 
ward course, as far north as Concord, N. H., thriving vil- 
lages had come into existence, demanding increased busi- 
ness facilities and better and cheaper means of transporta- 
tion than were afforded by the slow-moving ox trains, or the 
desultory rafting on the river practiced to uncertain extents 
at occasional intervals. But before the stream could be 
successfully utilized as an inland maritime highway, the pas- 
sage of its falls must be rendered feasible by locks, and the 
rocky shallows and devious windings escaped by artificial 

The first step in this direction was the building of the 
Middlesex canal, which was projected by Hon. James Sulli- 
van and begun in 1794, to be completed in 1803. This 
waterway stopped at what is now known as Middlesex vil- 
lage, about two miles above Lowell, and was twenty-seven 
miles in length. Immediately upon its completion other 
companies and individuals, aided more or less by the Middle- 
sex corporation, undertook to continue the work of making 
the river navigable by building locks, dams and canals 
where needed, until a point two miles north of Concord was 



reached — fifty-two miles in length — Judge Samuel Blodget 
fitly completing the great scheme of engineering by his 
canal of Amoskeag, which was formally opened on May 
Day, 1807. That part of the system below Amoskeag, 
comprising the dams and locks at Merrill's Falls, near 
Granite bridge, and Griffin's Falls below, was done by the 
Union Lock and Canal Company, superintended by Isaac 
Riddle of Bedford. 

To Superintendent Riddle belongs the credit, in 
association with Major Caleb Stark of Dunbarton, of con- 
structing the first canal boat that ever plied on the Merri- 
mack. The work was done at Bedford Center, and the boat 
was so different from anything the people had seen as to 
call forth numerous expressions of surprise and often of 
ridicule. The nearest approach to its style of construction 
that we have now is the flat-bottomed scow used to bring 
brick down the river from Hooksett. This odd craft, when 
completed, was drawn to Bass wood Landing on the Piscat- 
aquog, near the bridge, by forty yoke of oxen, and launched 
amid the tremendous cheering of a large crowd of curious 
spectators. This boat, appropriately named the "Experi- 
ment," was promptly loaded with lumber and started on its 
pioneer trip to Boston, where it was hailed with greater 
demonstration than at its starting point, the firing of can- 
non mingling with the shouts of the spectators. The news- 
paper of the day, the Boston Centinel and Federalist, had the 
following notice concerning the arrival of Captain Riddle's 

"Arrived from Bedford, N. H., Canal Boat Experiment, 
Isaac Riddle, Captain, via Merrimack River and Middlesex 

This was in the fall of 18 12, and Captain Riddle imme- 
diately found himself beset with orders for the shipment of 
large contracts of lumber and merchandise. His business 
increased so rapidly that in 18 16 a store and boat house was 
built at Piscataquog bridge, and two years later locks were 
built just above the island at the mouth of the river. 


While I haven't the data at hand to describe the inci- 
dent, I am well assured that a boat was built and launched 
at Nashua at about the same time, possibly a little earlier 
than Captain Riddle launched his "Experiment." Even 
before his boat had made its initial trip, the Merrimack 
Boating Company had been organized in Boston to trans- 
port freight from that place to Concord and way stations 
through Middlesex canal and Merrimack river. The first 
boat belonging to this corporation was taken up the river in 
October, 1814, and commenced on regular trips the follow- 
ing June. From the beginning of operations by this com- 
pany thirty years of uninterrupted and successful boating 
followed on the Merrimack. It is true passengers had to 
depend, as before, on the stage coaches, but all the products 
of the country were taken to market, and such merchandise 
as was needed brought up on the return trip to the places 
along the route. The granite in Quincy market building 
was transported from Concord by these boats. 

In 1 817 steam power was unsuccessfully applied and 
the project abandoned after one trial. But later a steamer 
called the "Herald" was built above Pawtucket Falls, 
launched in 1834, and made regular trips between Lowell 
and Nashua, when Lowell had but fourteen thousand inhab- 
itants and Nashua only a few hundred. In 1838 she was 
lengthened to ninety feet, and would carry five hundred 
passengers. In 1840 she was floated over the falls to 
Newburyport and thence taken to New York, where she 
was run as a ferry boat between New York city and 

The boating season opened as soon as the river was 
clear of ice in the spring and continued until cold weather. 
Five days were consumed in the upward trip and four days 
in going down the river. Twenty tons were considered an 
average load as far as Lowell, and fifteen tons above that 
point, except during low water, when not more than half 
that burden could be carried. At the beginning, $13.50 

*G. B.Griffith. 


was the charge for up freight to the extreme landing in 
Concord, and $8.50 for down transportation; but these 
prices were gradually reduced, until in 1838 only $5 and $4 
were the respective charges. The total amount of business 
done during the years 1 816-1842 was $468,756, going up- 
ward, and $220,940 downward. Before the boating began 
$20 a ton was charged by teams for the entire route. 

The Merrimack Boating Company was succeeded by 
the Concord Boating Company in 1823, and that in turn 
gave up business in 1844. The largest number of boats 
believed to be on the river at any one time was twenty. 
These boats, built to meet the peculiar requirements of 
river navigation, were not less than forty-five or over 
seventy-five feet in length, and from nine to nine and one- 
half feet in width at the middle. Those on the Merrimack 
were generally of the greatest length, nine feet wide at 
midway, but a little narrower toward the ends, flat-bottomed 
across the center but rounded up at bow and stern, so that 
while they were three feet deep at mid-length the sides 
were barely a foot high at the extremities. Two-inch pine 
planks were used in their construction, these being fastened 
to three-by-four-inch cross joints and side knees of oak, 
with cross timbers of the same wood at the ends. The 
seams were calked with oakum and pitched. No cross 
thwarts were needed, but a stout plank nailed across from side 
to side about a foot forward of midway served the double pur- 
pose of strengthening the boat and affording support to a 
mast raised to carry a square sail attached to a cross-yard, 
and which under favorable circumstances could be made to 
assist in the propulsion of the heavily loaded boat. These 
spars varied somewhat in length, being from twenty to 
twenty-four feet long and six inches in diameter at the foot. 
A rope running through a single block at the top enabled 
the boatman to hoist or lower the sail at will. 

The main means of propulsion against the current 
were the setting poles in the hands of two strong bowmen, 
who were assisted, at such times as his attention was not 


occupied in steering the unweildy craft, by the skipper in 
the stern. These poles, commonly called pike poles, were 
fifteen feet long, two inches in diameter and made round 
and smooth out of the best ash wood, with the lower end 
armed with an iron point. At intervals, between the canals, 
when a favoring breeze made it practical, the sail was run 
up and gave material aid ; but after all it was the muscle of 
the brawny pike men that carried the heavily laden barge 
onward and upward toward its destination. 

The peculiar method of propulsion is thus described 
by one who was familiar with the work : " To propel the 
boat by poling, a bowman stood on either side of the bow, 
with his face toward the stern, and thrusting the pike end 
of his pole down beside the boat in a slanting direction 
toward the stern until it struck the bottom of the river, he 
placed his shoulder against the top of the pole, and, with 
his feet braced against the cross timbers in the bottom 
of the boat, he exerted the strength of his body and legs 
to push the boat forward. As it moved, he stepped along 
the bottom of the boat, still bracing his shoulder firmly 
against the pole, until he had walked in this manner to the 
mast board — or, rather, until the movement of the boat had 
brought the mast board to him. He then turned around 
and walked to the bow, trailing the pole in the water, thrust 
it again to the bottom of the river and repeated the pushing 
movement." It must be understood that the cargo was 
piled along the middle of the boat so as to allow of a 
narrow passageway on each side. 

The passage down the stream was of course easier and 
more rapid, the men relying principally on scull oars for 
means of propulsion, these oars being about the same 
length as the poles, with six-inch blades on the lower por- 
tion. The oarsmen stood close to either side of the boat, 
and about six feet from the bow, each working his oar 
against a thole pin fastened on the opposite gunwale, and, 
the oar handles crossing, it was necessary that they be 
worked together, which moved the craft evenly on its way. 


The steering oar was nearly twenty feet long r and 
secured at the middle to a pivot on the stern cross timber. 
The blade was about twenty inches in width, and this like 
the others was made of the toughest and strongest ash. 
The steersman at his post in the stern had his pike pole and 
sculling oar at hand to lend such assistance as he could to 
the bowmen, whenever he was not occupied in guiding the 
boat along the laborious course. 

The agent at Concord lower landing hired the men 
making up the crews of the company, from $16 to $26 a 
month being paid. A large proportion of these boatmen 
were from Manchester and Litchfield. Brought up in the 
knowledge and experience of fishing at the Falls and raft- 
ing lumber down the river, they were superior boatmen. 
Among them was Joseph M. Rowell, who had been a rafts- 
man, and of whom it is related as a specimen of what might 
be required of a man in that capacity, that he rafted in one 
day two lots of lumber from Curtis eddy, nearly opposite 
No. 5 Amoskeag Mill, to Litchfield, nine miles, and walked 
back each time with a forty-pound scull oar on his shoulder. 
For this day's double work he got three dollars. Despite 
the hardships of his earlier life, Mr. Rowell lived to a good 
old age. 

Among the best known of the river men was Capt. 
Israel Merrill, who had the distinction of being pilot of the 
steamer that made its "experimental" trip up the river in 
1 81 7. He was a tall, powerful man, of whom many remi- 
niscences of bravery and hardihood are still related. He re- 
ceived a gold medal for saving two men from drowning in 
the river, at the imminent risk of losing his own life. John 
McCutchens, afloat on a raft of lumber above Eel Falls, 
and finding it getting beyond his control, leaped into the 
water to attempt to swim to the bank. Unable to do this 
he was carried over the dam built just above the falls, but 
managed to catch upon a wooden pin on the top of the 
planking. Captain Merrill, seeing his perilous situation, 
swam down to the place and pulled him to a rock, from 


which they were rescued soon after by some men in a boat. 
Matthew McCurdy fell into Pulpit stream and was swept 
down against a jam of logs, where he clung until Captain 
Merrill swam to his assistance. It was the same redoubt- 
able captain who made the long-talked-of race with another 
boatman from Concord to Boston, coming in at the end of 
this eighty-one-mile stubbornly contested trial a boat's 
length ahead of his rival, who paid for his folly by the loss 
of his life from over-exertion. 

The quickest trip of which there is record was made in 
1833 by Samuel Hall, John Ray, and Joseph M. Rowell, 
who started with a boatload of men from the mouth of 
Piscataquog river at eight o'clock on the- morning of June 
30, went to Medford, into Medford river, back into Mid- 
dlesex canal and into Boston, got a load of goods and 
reached home on the evening of July 3, having been only 
four days on the trip and return. The last boat on the 
Middlesex canal made its final trip in 185 1. 

As a rule travel was suspended at sunset, the men 
planning so as to be near one of the convenient stopping- 
places along the route at nightfall. The passage of the 
Middlesex canal consumed one day; another enabled them 
to reach Cromwell's Falls, fifteen miles this side; the third 
took them through Amoskeag locks ; and the fourth, every- 
thing proving exceptionally favorable, found them at their 
destination. The rendezvous at Amoskeag was the old 
Blodget house, kept respectively by Samuel P. Kidder, 
"Jim " Griffin, and Frederick G. Stark. 

Samuel P. Kidder was the first agent appointed by the 
boating company to superintend the Union canals and col- 
lect tolls, continuing until his death in 1822, when he was 
succeeded by Frederick G. Stark, who held the position to 
1837. The books kept by both these agents are now in 
the possession of Frederick G. Stark, of Manchester, a 
nephew of the first named. Through his courtesy the 
writer has examined the several volumes, and gives the fol- 


lowing extract to illustrate the methods and amount of 

"No. 97 Daniel Jones 18 Shotts. 

" July 8, 1829 

M Bow Canal 103M Pine Lumber and Timber at 34 35.02 

"62M Shingles at 03 1.86 







55- 22 

*Hooksett Canal 103M Pine Lumber and Timber 

at 18 
"62M Shingles at 2 

* Amoskeag Canal 103M Pine Lumber and Timber 

at 50 
"62M Shingles at 6 

" Paid July 28th." 

The amount of business for the month of October, 
1 82 1, was $759.80 ; while for the same month in 1831 it was 
£1,598.65, having more than doubled in the decade. 

. Accidents vvere less common than might have been ex- 
pected. One boat capsized at Goffe's Falls, and Edward 
Killicut was killed. Another was carried over Amoskeag 
Falls, a yoke of oxen attached to it being saved from the 
same fate by the presence of mind of Joseph M. Rowell, 
who rushed into the water and cut the rope that held them. 
In the midst of the bustle and hard-earned success of 
these stalwart sons of old-time progress came the announce- 
ment of that new power which was to rob them of their 
means of livelihood. Naturally this aroused bitter opposi- 
tion on their part, and as an illustration of the reluctance 
of the spirit of the times to accept the new way for the old, 
the Boston Transcript of September 1, 1830, said: "It is 
not astonishing that so much reluctance exists against 
plunging into doubtful speculation. The public is itself 
divided as to the practicability of the railroad." A member 
of the Massachusetts legislature was on record as saying : 
" Railroads, Mr. Speaker, may do well enough ia the old 
countries, but will never be the thing for so young a coun- 


try as this. When you can make the rivers run back it will 
be time enough to make railways." The waters of the 
Merrimack continued to run according to the laws of gravi- 
tation, but the railroad, in spite of all human opposition, 
came, and, like an avenging Nemesis, followed almost identi- 
cally in the tracks of the skeleton of departed greatness, — 
the canals, which had made its coming possible. 

There is no doubt that the adventurous lives led by the 
boatmen tended to bring out the rougher element of their 
natures, and a considerable number drank, gambled and 
entered zealously into the more boisterous sports ; but they 
were always faithful to duty, kind-hearted to a fellow-being 
in distress, and many of them carried beneath their coarse 
jackets more than an average allowance of real manhood. 
They belonged to a very necessary class of citizens in their 
day, but which in the evolution of the swiftly following 
years has been supplanted by another, and only a memory 
of their usefulness remains. The shriek of the car whistle 
ended the boatman's song, while his inspiring watchword, as 
he toiled laboriously toward the upper waters of old Amos- 
keag, " One more stroke for old Derryfield," found its death 
knell in the heartless snort of the iron horse, which threw 
at once those hardy men out of the only employment they 
knew. Here and there some shattered landmark dimly re- 
mains to remind us of them and their gigantic work, but 
the wooden dams and locks have long since crumbled away, 
the canals have been filled and their banks leveled, while 
the icy floods of spring have played such sad havoc with 
the granite abutments that even they fail to stand as their 

Cfce fling 

By George Waldo Browne 

The sturdy king, of toil is wisest, 
The crown of good deeds best — 

He who most deserves our homage- 
The king of honor blest. 

Memories of the Fireplace 

By The Nestor of the Farms 

How dear is all it shines upon, 
That firelight of the past. 

— Meredith. 

I j (Sp AM about to relate what is the imagery of history, 
WfA. mellowed by the memories of three generations. 
^feff The hearthstone was the family altar in the days 
of the pioneers. The bright-hued angel that pre- 
sided here was the unconscious medium drawing the family 
together with an ideality of result that no modern radiator 
or furnace affords. In the silent language of invisible 
forces it formed that sacred circle of loved ones, and taught 
them obedience and good manners with a deeper conviction 
than any work on etiquette that was ever written. "If you 
pass before me, you cast your shadow upon another: There- 
fore, be careful how you move; know your place," were the 
constant admonitions spoken by the tongues of flame. It 
was an example of unselfishness, the root of civility and 
good behavior. I remember of hearing an old pastor re- 
marking : " The cheerful spirit of the oldtime fireplace was 
more helpful in the family than a minister," and he had 
preached the love of Christ for more than forty years. 

The fireplace was the natural outcome of the campfire 
of the aborigine. If it lost something of the spirit of free- 
dom and exhiliration given the other by the invisible walls 
of space, it brought the refining sense of closer communion 
of life and thought, a deeper concentration of love and 
duty. The open fire of the pioneer's humble home was in 
keeping with the hearty, generous, rugged nature of the 


. .' 


men of those trying times. Think of a cabin home heated 
by some such an iron box as the modern stove ! I am 
always struck by the inconsistency of things upon seeing a 
lumberman's camp heated by a little seven by nine stove. 
Such poor contrivances are sadly out of place in the wil- 

Some of the olden fireplaces were built upon such 
startling dimensions that they were wide enough to let a 
yoke of oxen, with their load of well-seasoned oak, pass 
between the jambs. I have heard grandfather tell of lying 
on his back in the chimney corner and watching the Great 
Dipper as it swung around the axis of the sky. In the 
summer time it became the sooty route of myriads of mos- 
quitoes swarming into the dwelling, until the occupants 
were forced to beat a hasty retreat into the open air, or make 
a desperate defense by building a fire to rout the enemy. 
Remove the wide-mouthed stone fireplace, reaching nearly 
across the side of one of the rough-hewn log cabins of our 
ancestors, and you have robbed it of its star feature. 

Builded upon a prodigious plan, it had a hunger for huge 
green backlogs and well-seasoned foresticks, and how many 
cords of ash trees, oak, chestnut and maple, felled in the 
prime of life, found here their crematory ! What an amount 
of insufferable heat was wasted upon its shivering victims, 
while it afforded a passage for cold air that defied the inge- 
nuity of man to circumvent. 

" The fireplace broad let down the cold, 
And an outlet gave for hot air, too." 

Its drawing powers were remarkable, viewed in the 
light of science. "Drawing powers?" questioned Uncle 
Life Story, who was gifted with a very vivid imagination, 
not to say sight, " your Franconia stoves ain't nowhere 
compared to it. My father's house had one of 'em old- 
fashioned fireplaces, and I remember when I was a littlester 
of laying in front of it, munching chestnuts atween my 
teeth, and watching the draught pulling slivers of wood 


across the hearthstone. It had just drawn into the fire one 
as big as my thumb, when I see the old cat dozing on her 
favorite rug in front of the fire begin to move. She didn't 
seem to be awake, and pretty soon I see she was going rug 
and all! I didn't think of any hurt to the old cat, so I sot 
to and watched the rug while it was pulled nearer and 
nearer the fire, with Tabby sleeping as peaceful as ever. 
It was a tremendous windy night, and the old fireplace 
seemed on the rampage, and the closer that cat and jug got 
to the fire the faster they moved. I was getting afraid Tab 
would get her fur scorched, and was going to pull the rug 
back, when there came a mighty blast of wind, so the old 
chimney fairly rocked. In the midst of it there was a terrible 
commotion. The ashes flew all about, the fire sputtered and 
the cat screamed, but in spite of her claws and clawing, she 
was carried up that chimney like a streak of blue lightning ! 
Before any of us could speak, another tremendous pull from 
that old fireplace wrenched off the button from the door, 
which flew in with a crash, and the howling wind charged 
upon us with all the fury of Taylor's booted cavalry storm- 
ing the guns of Monterey; what is is and it can't be 

Sometimes the opposite from what Uncle Life pictured 
so picturesquely was the result, when the fireplace was more 
obdurate than a balky mule. In case it did not draw well, 
the upper part of the opening was covered by a " chimney 
cloth," to keep the smoke from filling the room. 

If a dragon in its hunger for the offerings of the for- 
est, wood was a small item in those days; and if its intense 
heat blistered the face, while cold chills played at hide and 
seek up and down the back, these old-fashioned fireplaces 
were the scenes of many hours of quiet happiness, and 
upon their hearthstones were laid the plans and drafts in 
rough of that form of government which is both our boast 
and our blessing to-day. Here the tyranny of a king was 
escaped, and liberty grew into tangible shape. In lieu of 
the songs of motherland, "Chevy Chase," " Hearts of Win- 




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sor," and other oldtime favorites, were sung the ballads of 
Lovewell's deadly fight on the meadows of the Saco, and 
Hilton's Indian raids. In place of the bloody massacres of 
Glencoe and Londonderry, or the battle of Hastings, were 
related the massacre of the Bradleys at Penacook, Kilburn's 
gallant defense of his home, or the story retold of some 
nameless march into the northern wilderness in quest of 
hapless loved ones borne away to a fate worse than death 
by some merciless foe. 

As the backlog burned low, and the smouldering 
embers cast weird figures on the rough walls, stories of 
witchcraft awoke the sleepy listeners, until the vivid imagi- 
nation peopled the blackened background with the gro- 
tesque figures of an uncanny race. 

The fireplace was the origin of the first lamp of New 
England, the pitch-pine torch, whose bright blaze won for 
it the name of "the candle-wood." In time these came to 
be stuck in iron holders fixed in niches at the corners of 
the fireplace. These were in use by the poorer class as late 
as 1820 or 1830. Not only did these flickering lights afford 
opportunity for the busy housewife to ply her shuttle or 
industrious needles, but by them many a lesson was conned 
o'er by the diligent youth seeking after knowledge in the 
days when education meant more than it does even in this age 
of enlightenment, when nearly every person has the oppor- 
tunity to acquire an education. By these lamps the signers 
of the Declaration of American Independence obtained the 
rudiments of their meagre store of knowledge. Stretched 
at full lengh upon the hearthstones our Clays, our Wilsons, 
our Lincolns imbibed that spirit of intelligent freedom 
which stood them in such stead during the crucial periods 
of our government. The hearthstone is, indeed, the founda- 
tion of liberty in every land. By its immortal torch the 
Northman made his vow of conquest for human rights; 
by its light the hunted Siberian pledged himself anew to 
the battles of his snowy realm; by its glimmer the "sons 
of oak," who were the first to herald the coming freedom 


of Gaul, joined hand in hand, while they sang their oaths 
ot freedom in the misty days when history made a blurred 
and faded page. 

If the fireplace was the scene of many a serious phase 
of life, so it was the witness of many hours made lightsome 
by fun and frolic of a more sedate sort than often reigns 
to-day, for people in those trying times naturally took life 
more seriously than at present. The child never dared to 
answer back the parent by even a look of rebellion, much 
more a word. The slightest move of the mother's finger was 
law, while the frown of a father's face was sure to drive the 
youngster into exile, or into a corner of silence. Still 
human nature was something what it is to-day, and senti- 
ment was prone to assert its presence, though courting 
among the young people was closely watched by the elders, 
and even the fireplace showed little if any sympathy for the 
love-lit heart. It was too wide to allow very close positions, 
and usually the lovers were compelled to sit one at either 
side, with ten feet or more of hearth between them. But 
here, while the older members talked of the trials of the 
day just past or planned for the work of the morrow, and 
the youngsters played upon the floor building air castles of 
dreams, the lovers had only to telegraph by eye and hand 
the sentiments that stirred their bosoms, or it might be 
they obtained some coveted position with only a table sepa- 
rating the hearts that beat only for each other. If custom 
was rigid in her rule, love's young dream, which has laughed 
at locksmiths, here burst the bonds of silence by bringing 
into use that primitive telephone, the "courting stick." 
This was a hollow tube half an inch or more in diameter, 
and of a length sufficient, as you may believe, to span the 
width of a table or reach across the widest fireplace. Then, 
while the fire, as if laughing at love's victory, crackled 
loudly and the sterner members of the group became 
absorbed in their trying problems, as yet undreamed of by 
the happy twain, they repeated their vows of constancy and 


M While the rest could see the sight 
But could not hear the sound." 

In the days of the courting stick the loving swain was 
expected to say his farewell by nine o'clock, and the parting 
followed immediately the tall clock in the corner tolled forth, 
as if in sorrow for what it was doing, the curfew hour. There 
is ample evidence to show, though the old fireplace never 
betrayed the secret, that sometimes lovers more ardent than 
prudent managed to break this rule, only to suffer the con- 
sequence if found out. It is related that a pair of these 
lovers, having excited the suspicions of their elders, were 
watched one night and were caught sitting "side by side, he 
haveing his arm around here waist, and shee, oh shame, had 
hers about his neck." Then they were seen to kiss, and so 
loud was the smack that the watchers heard it plainly. At 
least they so swore in court that "He kist ye mayden once 
and she kist him." What the punishment was the records 
do not show, but I trust it was not heavy for I am sure the 
tender sentiment was not overestimated in those puritanical 

In due course of time the old fireplace came to witness 
a revolution even in love-making, and the lovers were given 
opportunity to lay aside the courting stick, and while the 
old folks properly retired from the scene they were enabled 
to sit in closer commuuion, while they told o'er and o'er 
again the same old sweet story which has lightened human 
lives since time immemorial. 

. The chimneys and fireplaces gradually grew smaller, as 
the years crept on with their changes. Then " the chim- 
ney of our fathers," as Franklin styled it, disappeared and, 
to the grief of many an old, kind-hearted grandmother or 
grandfather, the "stove" came in to take its place. As 
early as 1700 there were so-called "stoves " used in Boston, 
though these were really a sort of open grate brought over 
from London. The first stove that I know of used in this 
state was made at Franconia from the ore of a mine now 
within the limits of Lisbon, and first made about 1800. 


This was a heavy, unsatisfactory affair, and was succeeded 
by the James stove, made in New York, some ten or fifteen 
years later. 

In due course of time, following the rude log cabin of 
the pioneer, came the old-styled cottage, one specimen of 
which is very vividly pictured in my mind. Its single story 
was low, its roof broad, and the huge chimney lifting its 
mighty top through the middle of the roof stopped short a 
little above the ridge-pole, as if ashamed of its size. Even if 
stinted at the top, enough brick, and they had been drawn 
over thirty miles, had been put into that chimney to build 
an ordinary house to-day. But it was not an altogether 
unwise provision, for three of its sides were utilized to 
afford those capacious openings by which as many rooms 
were heated during the long, severe New Hampshire win- 
ters. These apartments consisted of the big summer 
kitchen, usually unoccupied during the cold weather, the 
front or "living room," and the west or "spare room." 
What an opening did that old fireplace present in the 
kitchen ! It was at least four feet in height, and as many 
or more — I think it must have been six — feet in breadth, 
with a stone hearth built out into the floor for at least a 
yard. This was fitted up for all the conveniences of cook- 
ing. From the brick wall on the left hand hung the sooty 
iron arm called the "crane," which swung from two hinges 
fixed in the brick work. From this four or five sliding hooks, 
of varying lengths, were suspended to support the kettles 
and iron pots used by the housewife. Long, heavy andirons 
to hold up the larger logs stood half-buried in the ashes, 
while there were fire-dogs or creepers to support the smaller 
sticks. Then there were cob-irons, with sharp-pointed 
hooks to hold the spit. 

I remember with what pride Aunt Jenny used to bring 
out on company days an old brass kettle, which had been a 
family heirloom for two or three generations. Few in their 
station could afford more than an iron kettle, hence our 
hostess' pride, and she was proud if poor. 



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On the right of the fireplace was a big, brick oven, 
used as regularly on every Saturday as the well-thumbed 
prayer book on the Sabbath morning. Another receptacle 
of importance was the ash bin, shut in by a big, flat rock. I do 
not think, as I recall it now, there was ever a door, but the 
stone was held firmly in itsposition by a rod of iron braced 
from a notch cut in the stone floor, and another chipped 
into the slab itself. Behind this was a chamber large 
enough to hold several barrels of ashes, which were kept 
here until soap-making time in the spring. 

His corn-cob pipe lighted and drawing well, Uncle 
Jeems, the host, was generally very talkative, and many an 
hour have I sat as a boy listening to his quaint stories of days 
"fringed with the curtain of memory." The following 
seems too good to be lost, and I only regret that I have not 
the gift to reproduce his hearty chuckle with which he 
always ended it. 

" Seems like only yesterday," he would begin, "and it 
was nigh sixty year ago. We youngsters were all living at 
home then, and Sally, the oldest of the seven of us, was 
old enough to have a beau. I was young enough to wonder 
how late Ben staid — Ben was her feller — and what they did 
during the long hours they sot by the open fire. I told my 
wonderment to Jim, my oldest brother, and he laughed and 
said, kind of joking like: 'Easy enough to find out when 
Ben goes home. You notice he always takes off his big 
cowhide boots and puts on dad's low-cut shoes, for comfort 
I suppose. Now you just get a whopping lot of lard, and 
grease 'em soles and all. Then when he puts 'em on, they'll 
be so slippery he will tumble over like a bumble bee on a 
bald head. Greased leather is awful slewy when it's cold. 
Then we can all hear when he goes.' 

"I caught onto the idee, and a small boy with an idee 
in his head is worse 'n a hornet with a new stinger. I knew 
it was Ben's night to come — for that matter any night was 
— and so I got a good stock of lard from the cellar, which I 
did up in a paper, and laid in wait for Ben. He come and 


pulled off his boots, to set 'em up by the fireplace to keep 
'em warm when he should want 'em. He put on father's 
slippers, and from the hum of their voices — I was in the 
pantry — they were having a good time. I was beginning 
to wonder how I should get a chance to put the lard on. 
Ben's boots, when fortin favored me by sending him and 
Sally to the cellar for some of their favorite apples, and a 
mug of cider for Ben. The minnit I heerd their footsteps 
on the cellar stairs I scooted out and begun to rub the lard 
over 'em boots for all I was worth. But the boots were big, 
and for an amazement Ben and Sally got 'em apples uncom- 
mon spry. Anyway, I hadn't got the first boot greased 
afore I heerd 'em comin' ! They were opening the door, 
-and I hadn't time to dodge back into the pantry, so I just 
^crammed that package of lard into the top of my big cap, 
.and I slipped behind the great arm of the fireplace which 
father had made out of sheet iron and put up so he could 
: put the tongs, shovel and other utensils behind, out of 
j sight. 

?£- "I g ot out of sight in season to save myself, but I 
-^pretty soon found I had jumped out of the frying pan into 
[the fire! If I had bolted from the room, with my job upon 
.the boots half done, it would have been better for me. But 
;how I had got there I was bound to stay until the play was 
.oyer. Ben and Sally seated themselves afore the fire and 
^begun to eat apples and talk. How they chattered and 
jlaughed, and me growing more uncomfortable every minnit. 
rBy'm-by Ben put on more wood, and by the time that got to 
•] burning they had to move back to the old sofey, but I had 
AQgrin and bear it. 

bl OD "After a time it got so hot in my narrow corner that 
the sweat stood out all over me and, putting my hand to my 
^face to wipe it off, I made an astounding diskivery. The 
vlard.was melting and running down over my face in great 
.streams, as it seemed to me ! I never felt so uncomfortable 
[in; my life. But there I was, and there were Ben and Sally, 
[talking and larfing as if they were enjoying it. I must have 



stood there an hour, and growing more uncomfortable every 
minnit, when I heerd Sally say : 

" * What's that running over the floor, Ben ? ' 

"'Mebbe it's water sot there in a pail by your father. 
The pail has sprung aleak. I will carry it out.' 

" When Ben started towards me I knew my time was 
up. So, leaving a streak of melted lard behind me, I bolted 
for the chamber door, and just as Sally was saying 'Oh, 
my ! ' and Ben was trying to ketch me, I got out of sight. 
But mind you, I didn't get out'n memory for a good long 
time. The boys guyed me, and Ben pestered me, and Sally 
larfed at me till I got sick of it all. And that's the 
way I didn't larn how late Ben courted our Sally." 

He concluded his story with an inimitable chuckle, 
which showed how well he enjoyed the joke himself. 

Reminiscences of the fireplace are being forgotten, 
while its story is becoming merged into tradition. But even 
we can realize somewhat the pleasure of sitting by an open 
fire watching the dying embers, now bright with the rose 
of morning, anon glittering with the white heat of noon, 
and then, the white ash encircling them, taking on the gray 
of eventide, the changing coal holding to its size and form 
until the last. 

Uittle Itm 

By Susan Hubbard Martin 

Of all my boys, I took less stock in Jim, I'm bound to say ; 

He wasn't bright, like the other three, was slow to learn, some way, 

So when he was a little chap I sort of passed him by, 

Not thinkin' he'd amount to much, however hard he'd try. 

Even his clothes were not so good as the rest of those three boys, 
And he used to have to play with Tom's and Harry's cast-off toys 
Why, I hardly can remember once of buyin' things for him ; 
Somehow we all, each one of us, looked down on little Jim. 




Did I say all? Ill take it back. He had one faithful friend— 

His mother. Over that small boy we often would contend. 

" You ain't a-doin' fair by Jim," she always used to say. 

"Just wait and see my words come true. They will some happy day." 

But I just laughed, contemptuous like, thinkin' of Harry's wit, 
Of Jack's good Latin, and the way he'd mastered all of it, 
And the kind of books that Thomas read, to indicate his brain — 
Why, I only laughed, and never thought of little Jim again. 

I never cared what Jim would do when he became a man, 

But for the rest — ah, many a night I've staid awake to plan 

What Tom and Jack and Harry'd be, how fast they'd climb and far — 

Oh, I was sure their " wagon would be hitched to some bright star." 

Well, those three boys were sent to school, and Jim he stayed with us, 

A-doin' all we asked, and more, without a bit of fuss, 

And lightened, too, his mother's cares, but still I wouldn't see 

That Jim had any good in him, — blind, sir, as I could be. 

For all my pride and future hopes on those lads seemed to stay. 

We pinched and saved and aided 'em in every blessed way, 

Till we mortgaged — yes, we really did — the place where they were born, 

With its dear old apple orchard and its fields of wavin' corn. 

Well, the boys came home, and drifted soon into the world. They sought 
To make a name in history. With a father's pride I thought 
Those handsome boys so smart and quick, so full of life and vim, 
I couldn't praise 'em half enough, ignorin' little Jim. 

How did they do, you ask of me ? I'm most ashamed to tell, 
But we had to send 'em money for a long and tiresome spell; 
And Tom, for all his love of books, don't seem to get along, 
And Harry, too, is poorer yet, while Jack is far from strong. 

A handsome place you say this is ? Yes. On a summer's day 
I love to sit on this old porch and pass the time away. 
What's that you say ? Oh, what became of little, ornery Jim ? 
Why, bless your heart, we're livin' now, his ma and I, with him ! 

Granite ^tate Ctooftrees 

Historic Houses of Warner 

By Frederick Myron Colby 

/I vtLs ^^ town of Warner lies very nearly in the center of 
*2?K| Merrimack county and about eighteen miles west- 
& & erly of Concord, the state capital. It is not by 
any means an old town, for the township was not incorpo- 
rated in honor of the vice-regal Warners of Portsmouth, 
until the autumn of 1774, and its permanent settlement 
dates back only twelve years earlier than that event. Nor, 
on the other hand, is it a young town, as towns go ; many 
of its houses have a venerable age and could, if vocal 
utterance were allowed them, speak of a storied past as in- 
teresting, perhaps, as that of houses of a wider notoriety 
in the older towns of the State. It is of three or four of 
these oldtime mansions that I am going to tell to-day. 

One of these, the oldest house in town, was the home 
of the first settled minister. At a meeting of the propri- 
etors in November, 1771, it was voted to lay out a forty- 
acre lot "for the first ordained minister," near the meeting- 
house, and also a forty-acre parsonage lot. A society was 
soon organized and Rev. William Kelley of Newbury, 
Mass., who had already preached in town for a year, was 
ordained as the minister of the infant church. Mr. Kelley 
was a young man of twenty -eight, a graduate of Harvard, 
and recently married. He built at first a small one-story 
log house on his lot. Two or three years later he erected a 
two-story frame house, using the smaller building for an L. 
It was the first two-story house built in town, and was his 
home for many years. 

It was a hospitable, cheery home when Elder Kelley 
and his excellent wife, Madam Kelley, dispensed their good 


cheer in this old mansion. How the table groaned with the 
bounteous feast, and how the laugh and joke went round as 
the boys and girls came home from school and college and 
sat down at the well-filled board. It would be worth a 
fortune to be able to go back a century and be one of the 
family in this home of the first minister. Attic wit min- 
gling with Baconian philosophy flowed around that circle, 
for Mr. Kelley was a learned man and the muses were culti- 
vated in that early home. An aged lady, long since de- 
ceased, once told the writer that she never knew a house- 
hold where greater refinement or greater culture prevailed 
than in the home of Elder Kelley. The minister and his 
family set an example for intelligence and propriety that 
exercised a beneficent and elevating influence upon the 
society of Warner at that early time and is not wholly for- 
gotten even to this day. 

Mr. Kelley remained in his pastorate till the year 1802, 
and for several years after that preached occasionally. He 
was a small, active man, intensely alive, and was a much 
beloved clergyman. Two of his sons were prominent in 
Warner for many years, — Capt. M. B. Kelley, who kept a 
store and hotel at the lower village nearly up to the 30's, 
and was a selectman and representative of the town; and 
Esquire Abner B. Kelley, who was one of the early post- 
masters and also town clerk for many years, as well as state 
treasurer for a time. Another son, John Kelley, was a 
lawyer and fine scholar, and for many years was editor of 
the Exeter News- Letter. 

The old house was taken down some time in the 4o's, 
and moved from its sightly location on Kelley Hill and put 
up on a new site at the lower village, where it now stands, 
bearing the same outward resemblance that it did when it 
was the home of the first minister. Only a few of those 
who pass it by realize what an ancient landmark it is. Yet it 
has witnessed more of the events of the town than any other 
building in Warner. In its rooms have assembled many times 
the leading citizens of the town to consult with Mr. Kelley 


on matters of both ecclesiastical and civil import. Its win- 
dows looked down upon the annual meeting of the old 
militia companies that met to train on the old Parade, and it 
witnessed the departure of the brave patriots who hastened 
at the call of Freedom when the echoes of the " shot heard 
round the world" reverberated among the hills of Warner. 
It is a house with a history, and like a human being bears 
upon its countenance something of the vicissitudes of that 

The second oldest house in town is at Davisville, a lively 
little hamlet in the southeast part of the town. This dwell- 
ing was built a year or two after the Kelley house, a vast, 
roomy old structure that is one of the historic mansions of 
Warner. Its builder was a man of note and influence in 
his day and generation, Capt. Francis Davis, an early 
pioneer and Warner's first representative to the General 
Court. He was a man of means and substance and the 
father of a numerous family. The mills at Davisville were 
built by him and are still operated by his descendants. He 
was farmer, miller and taverner, for this great house of his 
was a licensed tavern. It stood on the old stage route from 
Boston to Windsor, Vt., and before its doors used to draw 
up the six-horse stagecoach and the great horse teams that 
passed up and down this highway. 

Captain Francis was succeeded in the ownership of this 
house by his still more famous son, Gen. Aquilla Davis, one 
of the most distinguished men whose home was ever in 
Warner. General Davis served both in the Revolution and 
the War of 1 812. He was prominent in the state militia 
and was brigadier-general of the Fourth Brigade for several 
years. He was repeatedly the representative of the town 
at the General Court. He owned one of the largest estates 
in town and had valuable property in Sharon, Me. The 
General died while on a journey to the latter place in the 
winter of 1835. He was buried beside his father, the 
Pioneer, in the cemetery at Davisville. 


His old mansion, with its great L and outstanding 
buildings, still remain unchanged and in excellent condition, 
and seems good for another hundred years. The kitchen 
fireplace, usable yet, is of the kind that takes in wood of 
the cord length and roomy enough to do the roasting for a 
regiment. The dancing hall in the wing remains as it was 
in the old time, when the belles and beaux of the neighbor- 
hood assembled there on a Thanksgiving or New Year's 
night to trip the "light fantastic toe." There is no other of 
those halls in town with a raised platform at one end for the 
musicians, and the seats on each side running the length of 
the room where the dancers waited till the summons came 
to "form on." The house is still owned by the family, the 
present owner being a grandson of General Aquilla, Henry 
C. Davis, a prominent manufacturer and the representative 
of Warner at the General Court in this year of grace. 

For two years before Gen. Aquilla Davis died he busied 
himself in erecting a fine brick residence on a beautiful 
elevation within a few rods of his house. It was finished 
late in the fall, and everything was made ready for him to 
move into it, but the General declared that the house was 
too tight and that if he undertook to reside in it he would 
not live till spring. He never inhabited it. One of his 
sons, Charles Davis, occupied it through his life, and it is 
now the home of a niece of the latter. Whether we take 
into consideration the beauty of its site or the elegance of 
the residence, it is by far the most desirable stand in that 
part of the town. 

As one drives through the lower village of Warner, he 
will observe a stately two-story house, painted white, with a 
huge chimney at each end, standing at a dignified distance 
from the street and overshadowed by a row of noble maples. 
The house has the unmistakable look of one to the " manor 
born," and was formerly one of the grand residences of the 
town. One hundred years ago it was the home of Hon. 
Henry B. Chase. The village lawyer, the first postmaster 
of the town, representative and state senator, for forty 



years " Squire Chase " was the leading man in Warner, and 
he was well known about the State. He was clerk of the 
senate, speaker of the house in 1817, and when Merrimack 
county was organized, in 1823, he was the first register of 
probate for the county. For several years Warner was one 
of four places at which the probate court was holden in the 
new county, and on the first Wednesday of March and the 
third Wednesday of September the sessions were held in 
the little brick law office of the register, which is still stand- 
ing near by. 

Squire Chase was a native of Cornish, and belonged to 
the family of Chief Justice Salmon P. Chase. He was a 
man of fine appearance, large and portly, with a Websterian 
head. His wife was a daughter of Nathaniel Bean, a prom- 
inent citizen of the town. He came to W T arner in I804, 
and the next year he married and brought his wife into this 
new house, which was one of the finest of its day. The 
paper on its parlor walls was brought from Portsmouth and 
was bought purposely for this room, costing one hundred 
dollars in silver money. It is very thick, almost like straw- 
board and is fancifully illustrated with all sorts of pictures — 
landscapes, marine views, court scenes and other pageants. 
It will afford the visitor infinite amusement to study the 
various figures. Probably there are not more than two or 
three rooms in the State with paper of this costly kind. 
The parlor of the Governor Pierce mansion at Hillsborough, 
the parlor of the Governor Badger homestead at Belmont 
and the Squire Chase parlor are the only ones I know of, and 
they were probably decorated at nearly the same time. In 
each instance the paper looks as bright and fresh as if laid 
on but yesterday. 

Castles; of Houtfj 

By George Waldo Browne 

The castles of youth, fairy temples of glory, 
In column on column and story on story, 
With portico, turret and dome far above 
The throne of ambition, the court of our love, 
How clearly, how dearly each outline appears, 
As seen through the vista of vanishing years, 
The rainbow of promise, with colors untold, 
O'er-arching in splendor the walls that are gold ! 

Now golden with promise, now silver'd with fears, 
Our castles are shadows, our temples are tears, 
The toiler may carp and the idler may dream, 
Till sunlight and shadow be not what they seem ! 
The winners are those who are true to each trust, 
And losers the sloths of a vanishing day; 
While over revolving wheels gather no dust, 
The motionless car hastens on to decay. 

The castles of youth, the ambitions of childhood, 
Like th' silver of sunset, the dew on the wildwood, 
Resolve themselves into the glimmer of tears, 
As seen through the mistfall of memory's years. 
Forever is truth trampled down by the throng, 
And ever is justice outweighed by the wrong; 
Forever is grandeur an honor to come, 
And fame but the echo of voices now dumb ! 

Those eyrie-like temples, our castles of youth, 
Behold in their splendor the dying of truth ! 
Are sought in the magic of a meaningless name 
The grandeur of genius, the glory of fame ! 
O boast not of manhood that never has seen, 
Nor dreamed of the gulf that is lying between 
■The pathway of honor where heroes have led, 
The ways of ambition where honor lies dead. 

Majestic in promise, of splendors soon worn, 
Of turrets and spires and ornament shorn, 
Remembered in joy and forgotten in sorrow, 
Forgotten to-day but remembered to-morrow, 
Though castles are mortal and temples are air, 
And builders awake to a dreamer's despair, 
They are, through the rainfall, in spite of the tears, 
The sun of our childhood, the sunlight of years. 


<Cf)e battle of Cfjeteea <£reefc 

By Frsd W. Lamb 

^JJWPON the alarm of April 19, 1775, the patriots, as is 
well known, began to pour into Cambridge, Mass., 
from all the surrounding country. Among the 
patriot leaders who were the first to arrive was 
John Stark, from Derryfield, now Manchester, N. H. He 
was followed by a large number of his friends and neigh- 
bors from all over the southern part of New Hampshire. 
With these men he soon organized a regiment and was sta- 
tioned at Medford, Mass. 

The headquarters of the British army, under General 
Gage, was located in Boston, Mass., and British troops were 
distributed at various points from Roxbury Neck to the foot 
of Hanover street in Boston. A detached force of some 
three hundred men was about this time stationed at an out- 
post on Noddles Island (now East Boston), and formed the 
extreme right of the line. 

To keep up the enthusiasm of the patriots there were 
several expeditions projected by the leaders to seize the 
supplies of live stock and hay which had been gathered on 
the islands in Boston Harbor by the British. One of these, 
and the most important, the never half-known battle of 
Chelsea Creek, occurred on the 27th of May, 1775, at which 
time quite an engagement was fought and won by the 

Colonel Stark was ordered by the Committee of Safety 
to take a detachment of some three hundred men and drive 
the cattle and sheep from Hogg and Noddles islands across 
Chelsea Creek, which could be forded at low water. 

Accordingly, at eleven o'clock on the morning of the 
27th of May, he started on his errand. 




The sheep on Breed's Hill, Winthrop (then Hogg's 
Island), were removed successfully, but when it came to 
crossing to East Boston (Noddles Island) for the cattle there, 
the outposts of British regulars, some fifty in number, 
which were later reinforced, stood their ground and opened 
fire by platoons, briskly, upon the embattled Yankees on 
the Chelsea side of the creek. 

The British Admiral, Samuel Graves, immediately sent 
a schooner and a sloop towing barges filled with soldiers up 
Chelsea Creek, intending to cut off the return of the 
patriots to the mainland from Hogg's Island. The schooner 
was armed with four sLx-pounder cannon and the barges were 
provided with twelve swivels, but with all their banging 
away at the green hillsides of Chelsea (where round iron 
balls have been found quite frequently) none of the patriots 
were killed, while on the deck of the armed schooner ran 
blood until it dripped out of the scuppers, according to a 
British letter home about the affair. 

A force of grenadiers was also sent to aid the British 
marine guard on Noddle's Island, as stated before, and 
Colonel Stark was finally obliged to withdraw to Hogg's 
Island, and then to the mainland, taking advantage of the 
ditches cut through the marshes, at the same time return- 
ing a hot fire, inflicting a heavy loss of killed and wounded 
on the enemy. He succeeded, however, in carrying off the 
greater part of the live stock. 

The schooner continued to fire at the Americans after 
they had reached Chelsea Neck, but General Putnam, who 
fortunately came up with reinforcements, among whom was 
Joseph Warren, serving as a volunteer, opened a brisk fire 
in return. For the first time in the American Revolution, 
artillery rumbled between Chelsea's hedgerows, along with 
the marching hosts, or rather two little four-pounders com- 
manded by Capt. Gideon (?) Foster. The Provincials now 
numbered in all about one thousand men, according to Hon. 
A. D. Bosson of Chelsea, Mass. 


All the afternoon the popping at the redcoats lasted, 
and at nine o'clock at night the impetuous Putnam began 
the work for a finish. Mounting his two cannon on a knoll 
near the river edge, backed by his whole force, as the 
becalmed British vessels approached that point on their 
retreat, towed by the sailors and marines in the barges, all 
fair and near shots from the shore, Putnam and his men 
waded out waist deep into the water and poured a fierce fire 
to kill into the vessels and boats with demands for sur- 
render. It was too hot for the regulars. At eleven o'clock 
at night, abandoning their vessels, they sought safety in 
flight in the boats, and the enemy's schooner was burned by 
pulling her ashore at the ferries and burying her up in 
heaps of hay, after removing from her decks four cannon, 
the sails from her masts and clothes and money from her 
cabin. In this way the schooner fell into the hands of the 
patriots with all her supplies, stores and equipments. 

As the Americans were all trained marksmen, the 
casualties among the British were many. The action at 
this point lasted from nine to eleven. The Americans had 
three or four wounded, but none killed. The British loss 
was greatly exaggerated at the time. General Gage stated 
in his official report that "two men were killed and a few 
wounded." The New Hampshire Gazette of June 2, 1775, 
said that"'Tis said between two and three hundred marines 
and regulars were killed and wounded, and that a place was 
dug in Boston twenty-five feet square to bury their dead." 
One man stated that he saw sixty-four dead men landed at 
Long Wharf from one boat. Edwin M. Bacon's " Historic 
Pilgrimages in New England" in an account of this engage- 
ment, says that " the Americans had four men wounded, 
while the British had twenty men killed and fifty wounded." 

Gordon, in his "History of the American Revolution," 
states that " at least two hundred British were either killed 
or wounded." 

"Putnam," Bacon says, "got the credit for this fight " ; 
and it is stated that the conduct of this affair influenced the 


vote in the Continental Congress to make him a major- 
general. The schooner was named the "Diana,'' and was 
commanded by Lieut. John Graves, a nephew of Admiral 
Samuel Graves. 

In the battle of Chelsea Creek, which opened so redly, 
our men fighting in the water with the shore rising behind 
them in the darkness, or standing or lying on the higher 
land, could be but dimly seen, while themselves firing at 
figures clearly cut out against the surface of the water. 

Judge Bosson (of Chelsea), in his address delivered to 
the old Suffolk Chapter of the Sons of the American Revo- 
lution, two years ago, expresses his conviction that between 
two and three hundred of the British were killed and 
wounded. There is very little to be found on record of 
this engagement in print, which should be accorded a place 
as the second battle of the Revolution, Lexington and Con- 
cord being the first actual clash of arms between the Brit- 
ish and American troops. 

because of Hou 

By Claribel Egbert 

What have you done for me, dear one, 

With your eyes so true ? 
This grim old world looks golden bright — 

Because of you. 

What have you done for me, dear heart, 

With your lips so true ? 
The words of others kindly seem — 

Because of you. 

What have you done for me, my own, 

With your hand so true ? 
The clasp of others heart-felt feels — 

Because of you. 

Queen of my heart and queen of queens, 

With your love so true — 
The years would drag with leaden feet, 

Wert not for you. 


Cfce etutor's t©mtioto 

About 1830 Major James Osgood of Fryeburg, Me., 
and Potter Smith of Shelburne, N. H., erected a saw-mill 
with shingle and clapboard machines, about one and one- 
half miles from the Androscoggin, which they operated for 
a number of years. They sold clear pine boards, some 
more than two feet wide, for five dollars per thousand and 
other lumber in proportion. They hauled clapboards with 
teams to Harrison, Me., thence by canal to Portland, the 
distance being about one hundred miles. Later they sold 
the property to Philip Pettingill, who carried on the busi- 
ness for many years. 

All about this pond and stream pine timber grew in 
great abundance. Some enterprising men from Shelburne 
built a dam at the outlet for driving purposes, and many 
million feet of pine logs were driven down this stream to 
the Androscoggin and thence to Brunswick, Me., the near- 
est manufacturing place on the Androscoggin river. 

A large part of the timber growing in Berlin, Success, 
Milan, Dummer and Cambridge found a market at the same 
place, and for many years the principal business in this 
vicinity was the cutting and hauling of pine timber. 


"Before the Revolution," says the Patriotic "T^eview, 
" there were three kinds of government established in our 
British-American colonies. The first was a charter govern- 
ment, by which the powers of legislation were vested in a 
governor, council and assembly chosen by the people. Of 
this kind were the governments of Connecticut and Rhode 
Island. The second was a proprietors' government, in 
which the proprietor of the province was governor; al- 
though he generally resided abroad and administered the 



government by a deputy of his own appointment, the as- 
sembly only being chosen by the people. Such were the 
.governments of Pennsylvania and Maryland and, originally, 
of New Jersey and Carolina. The third kind was that of 
royal government, where the governor and council were ap- 
pointed by the Crown and the assembly by the people. Of 
this kind were the governments of New Hampshire, Massa- 
chusetts, New York, New Jersey ; after the year 1702, Vir- 
ginia ; the Carolinas, after the resignation of the proprietors 
of 1728, and Georgia. This variety of governments cre- 
ated different degrees of dependence on the Crown." 

A brace of stories too good to be lost is told of an 
honest, shiftless, but somewhat vain, colored "gentleman," 
who once lived in the town of Deerfield, and whose given 
name was Peter. Just why, it is not certain, but he was fre- 
quently called " Jack," a name he disliked. At one time, 
when a boy, loitering by the roadside, he was accosted by a 
stranger riding past, who asked: "Is this the road to Hook- 
sett, Jack?" " How in funder did yo' know my name was 
Jat ?" demanded the aroused negro youth. "Guessed it, 
youngster." "'F yo's so smart 's dat, guess yo' way to 

At another time he was one of a crowd who had col- 
lected to witness the first appearance of a wagon in that 
vicinity, and as the carriage bearing its delighted passenger 
rolled past, Pete burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. 
"What are you laughing at, Pete?" asked a bystander. 
"Golly, Massa! jess see 'em little wheels hooter to keep 
out ob de way of de big ones." 

The May number of the Granite State Magazine, 
among other features, will contain the completion of Mr. 
Stearns' admirable sketch of "The Snow-Shoe Men;" the 
first of a new series ; " Diamonds in Granite " ; the life-story 
of "Johnny Appleseed," the fifth article in the series on the 
Merrimack River ; " Indian Pastimes," by George Copway ; 
"The White Night, a Tale of Frontenac's Wintei Raids"; 
and " Auburn, the Town by the Lake," with the usual 
amount of poetry and miscellany, to say nothing of the 
illustrations of high grade that the magazine gives. 

■ i 



.* '*. 




^Aba-v-cly- ^>i 

Cfje 4Mb Mw of ttie ^omttam 

By Moody Currier 

HY home is on the mountain's brow, 
Uf^i Where clouds hang thick and tempests blow. 
Unnumbered years, with silent tread, 
Have passed above thy rocky head ; 
Whilst round these heights the beating storm 
Has worn, with rage, thy deathless form. 
And yet thou sit'st, unmoved, alone, 
Upon this ancient mountain home. 
Long as these towering peaks shall stand, 
So wondrous great, so nobly grand, 
Serene, on high, that face of thine 
Shall mock the wasting hand of time, 
Whilst all that live shall pass away, 
And all the tribes of earth decay. 
Old man, thy face of rock sublime 
Looks back, through years, to ancient time, 
When first the forming hand divine 
Reared up this rocky home of thine, 
And from the lowest depths of earth 
These mountain forms had first their birth; 
When on these shaggy heights imprest, 
Thy changeless form was doomed to rest. 
191- f& 


Then tell me, man of silent tongue, 
How first the heavens and earth begun; 
If all this bright and shining frame, 
With all these worlds from nothing came; 
If all these starry orbs of light, 
That glitter on the robes of night, 
And fill creation's vast expanse, 
Began at once their mystic dance. 
Or, if from mists that dimly shine, 
Worlds spring to light by power divine, 
Till all the radiant fields afar 
Shall beam with light of sun and star. 
And tell me where, in depths profound, 
The primal germs of earth were found, 
Which, rising up from realms of death, 
Instinct with life and vital breath, 
Have formed this wondrous orb we see 
Of hill and plain and waste of sea, 
Where busy life, with forming power. 
Unfolds itself in plant and flower, 
And upward still, with widening plan, 
Kindles the pulse of beast and man. 
And tell me whence, from earth or heaven, 
That living spark to man was given, 
Which shines in God's eternal day, 
When all things shall pass away. 

1 lief I 3* 

I / . HI -• : * 

■ ( Sjk%$->& 



Granite J>tatc ^aga^tne 

Vol. I. MAY, 1906. No. 5 

Cfje Merrimack Ctiber 

The Stone Age 

By George Waldo Browne 

Dark as the frost-nipped leaves that strew the ground, 

The Indian hunter here his shelter found ; 

Here cut his bow and shaped his arrows true, 

Here built his wigwam and his bark canoe, 

Speared the quick salmon leaping up the fall, 

And slew the deer without the rifle ball ; 

Here the young squaw her cradling tree would choose, 

Singing her chant to hush her swart papoose; 

Here stain her quills, and string her trinkets rude, 

And weave her warrior's wampum in the wood. 

— Brainard. 

Ji-^'OWEVER antiquarians may differ in regard to a 
( Cix^Y settlement of the question, and whatever may 
&r^£\ have been the origin of the race of people inhab- 
iting North America at the time of the arrival of Europeans, 
there is evidence to show that the Amerinds presented 
varying types of humanity. Owing to the utter lack of any 
fixed boundary, and the occasional intermarriage of mem- 
bers of different tribes, many have been led to believe that 
they sprang from a common parentage, so it is only on 
philological grounds that any division can be made. A 
prominent writer upon this subject (Dr. R. G. Thwaites) 
makes four branches, with as many distinct languages, sub- 
divided into innumerable dialects, of the races inhabiting the 
country east of the Rocky Mountains to the Atlantic 

193 > 


Ocean, and from Hudson Bay to the Gulf of Mexico. 
The most numerous of these, and at one time the most 
powerful, were the Algonquins, holding the territory from 
the Gulf of St. Lawrence westward to the Mississippi 
River, and from the "debatable ground," on the banks of 
the Ohio River northward to the shore of Hudson Bay. 
Taken together, or singly, the tribes or families making this 
great body of aborigines occupy a larger place in our early 
history than all others. While this fact was due largely to 
their situation, which brought them first into combat with the 
pale-face invaders before the fire and ardor of primitive life 
had been sapped by contact with the enervating influences 
of civilization, it was also owing to their warlike disposi- 
tion. Unlike the " Five Nations " of the Genesee valley, 
they lacked the unity of strength obtained by confederation, 
and often the tribes making up their vast numbers were at 
war with each other. It has been estimated that they num- 
bered, altogether, from fifty to one hundred thousand. 
Against them all, whether living in the valley of the St. 
Lawrence or along the smaller streams of New England, 
the fiery Iroquois were arrayed for many generations.* 

With the above declaration it is, perhaps, unnecessary 
to say that the Indians of the Merrimack valley belonged 
to this numerous clan. If, as a whole, the tribes of New 
England failed to unite in any sort of a confederacy, four 
families living in the Merrimack valley and adjacent formed 
a tribal union. These comprised the Nashuas, dwelling 
along the river which perpetuates their name ; the Squam- 

*The Iroquois league numbering over ten thousand persons and two thousand warriors, 
consisted originally of a confederacy of five kindred tribes, the Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, 
Cayuga and Seneca, in what is now the state of New York. To these were added the cognate 
Tuscarora alter their expulsion from Carolina, about 1715. The name Iroquois, by which 
they were known to the French, is supposed to be a derivative from some Indian term. To 
the English they were known as the Five, afterwards the Six, Nations. They called them- 
selves by a name commonly spelled, and interpreted " People of the Long 
House." Of this symbolic long house the Mohawk guarded the eastern door, while the Seneca 
protected the western, according to "American Ethnology," Vol. IX. From their position it 
will be seen that it was natural that the Mohawks, the most warlike of all these clans, should 
become the invaders of New England. — Editor. 


scotts, a small inland family located where is now Exeter ; 
the Newichawannocks, on the Piscataqua River, and the 
Penacooks, living in the valley of the Merrimack and num- 
bering about three thousand, being the ruling tribe. Their 
most noted chief or sagamore was Passaconnaway. 

This small confederacy of wildwood hunters and war- 
riors maintained a certain form of government for a longer 
period than there is even tradition to show, and were in 
truth the pioneers of aboriginal progress. Occupying one 
of the most favorable regions for fishing and hunting, and 
located upon the debatable ground between the fiery Mic- 
macs of the East and the lordly Mohawks of the West, 
they were frequently called upon to brave the battle against 
powerful foes. Here was sounded the wild alarum of con- 
quest from enemies that never slept ; here, from the high- 
lands of the River of Broken Waters to the Isles of Mona, 
was borne aloft the tocsin of war ; here wound the wartrails 
of dusky nations that fought, bled and perished in the 
same cause which has wrung tears from the old earth since 
it was young. This was in trnth the Thessaly of olden 
New England. 

From out of the misty background of tradition rise the 
stalwart figures of that period not inaptly styled the Stone 
Age of the Merrimack. Among them appears the stately 
Kenewa, mustering his dusky legion, to lead it forth to 
anticipated conquest, only to be swallowed up by the hun- 
gry wilderness as was Varus and his Romans in the old 
Germanic forest. Then the valiant Winnemet rallied 
around him his gallant followers in his desperate endeavor 
to stem the tide of his Waterloo upon the Brave Lands of 
Penacook, falling at last encircled by the slain of his " old 
guard" of the Penacooks. Now the magnanimous Passa- 
connaway, reading in the signs of the times the destiny in 
store for his people, taught them it was better to condone 
the wrongs of a stronger race than to combat a hopeless 
fate. Here, the curtain fallen on the- closing scene of 
pagan warfare, Wannalancet, the last great sachem of the 

■ -. 

■ ■• '■■ 


Stone Age, called about him his few scattered followers, to 
lead them to that rendezvous under the French protection 
upon the bank of the St. Lawrence, returning a few years 
later that his dust might mingle with the ashes of his father. 
Here, sacrificing every hope and ambition for his race, 
brave Merruwacomet fought and fell in the interest of an 
alien people, his heroic deeds unsung. Here, too, in the 
gloaming of that long day, came the lonely Christo, to con- 
secrate with the tears of a warrior the graves of his sires, 
the ashes of his race, No mean knights of chivalry these, 
sons of the Stone Age, every hero of them worthy to stand 
shoulder to shoulder with the best of the Old World 

This is no place to discuss the rights or wrongs of the 
races, though there can be no harm in reminding the con- 
queror that not so very many geneaations ago his own 
ancestors lurked sullenly in the caverns of the earth, and 
came forth clad in the skins of wild beasts. It was related 
by one of the pioneers of the Merrimack valley that, while 
abroad one night upon the river bank, he discovered an 
Indian approaching upon his hands and knees. A friendly 
motion of the hand of the dusky scout caused the white 
man to wait his approach. With his fingers upon his lips 
to enjoin silence, the latter whispered: 

" Me watch to see the deer kneel." 

Then it occurred to the narrator that it was Christmas 
Eve, and he realized that in the simplicity of his new-found 
belief the red man was expecting at that sacred hour to see 
the deer come forth from the forest to fall upon their knees 
in silent ' adoration of the Great Spirit, Truly that race 
cannot be lost to Omnipotent justice who, in its honesty of 
faith, looks through Nature's eyes up to God. 

The glory of the Stone Age was at its zenith in the 
early reign of Passaconnaway. It had begun its decline a 
little prior to the landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth Rock, 
when a terrible epidemic swept over the tribes of New 
England, in many cases reducing populous communities to 



little bands of forlorn survivors. But the people of the 
Stone Age in all probability would have recovered from 
this calamity, in the due course of time, as they had rallied 
from other disasters. From the fell power of the enervat- 
ing influences of the white man there was no hope. So the 
period begins beyond the twilight of tradition and ends with 
the rising of the sun of civilization. While it makes a dark 
page on the historic scroll of the ages, it was not wholly 
lost to light and intelligence; while primitive in its results 
as compared to the present, it was almost as far from 
primeval effort as the age which had preceded it. If the 
research of the philologist has not been in vain, they but 
followed an inferior race, as they were succeeded by one 
superior, and if passing from the scene monumentless, yet 
they did leave behind them traces and names which shall 
live as long as the American Republic may stand, while 
that other aborigine left not even an arrow head to show to 
coming races how dim are the footsteps of human progress. 
Personally, the sons of the Stone Age were men of tall, 
straight figure, dusky-hued skin, coal-black hair, beardless 
faces, high cheek bones, a nose long and prominent, eyes 
small but dark and piercing, capable of watching the eagle's 
flight under the glare of the midday sun without flinching. 
They moved silently ahd swiftly along the dim aisles of the 
forest archways, by placing one foot directly in front of the 
other, swerving neither to the right nor left. Their cos- 
tumes consisted mainly of deer skin leggins, skin robes or 
hunting shirts in winter, and moccasins, also of deer skin, 
the primitive garb made more picturesque by fringes along 
the seams and ornaments painted in bright hues upon the 
garments. Their principal weapon was a long stout bow of 
hornbeam or some equally strong wood, which sent an 
arrow with flint or stone head a great distance, and in their 
hands with unerring accuracy. For closer attack and 
defense they made a spear or lance, with shaft of stout 
wood finished at the end with a sharp rock-point. If the 
engagement became hand-to-hand they were armed with 

. .' 


the tomahawk made of a small flat stone, attached to a 
stout handle of wood. These weapons, with a knife of 
stone, sometimes of bone or flint, comprised their principal 
weapons and utensils of war and chase. But along with 
these came many other implements and instruments of 
manufacture and invention worthy of description. 

For their own protection, if not from social" motives, 
and there is no proof to show that the American Indians 
were not a social people, the inhabitants of the Merrimack 
valley in the period of the Stone Age lived mainly in 
groups or lodgments along the banks of their cherished 
river. By this it must not be supposed that, at some time 
or other, every section of the state was not penetrated by 
these people, and the finding of relics of their use in the 
most remote parts of the state shows that they dwelt there 
for a time of greater or less extent. 

Living in villages or towns, as we should know it, 
these warriors became banded together, had their regular 
leaders and a rude form of government. Their towns were 
usually built with regard to a favorable position for fishing, 
hunting, clearings for agriculture and where they could be 
best protected from an enemy, which was likely to sweep 
down upon them at any hour. There were few if any days 
when scouts were not on the lookout for the appearance of 
strangers who might be looked upon with distrust. 

Their dwellings, called wigwams, derived from wig-was, 
meaning "bark dwelling," were built by setting small sap- 
lings or branches of trees in the ground in a circular form, 
the tops bent so as to meet and form a conical wall. This 
rough framework was then covered with bark or mats of 
skins, except at the crest, where a small aperture was left 
for the smoke of the fire within to escape through. The 
doorway, a skin answering the purpose of a door, was an 
opening upon the sunny side of this primitive structure, 
usually an opening on the opposite side being made so that 
in case the wind blew from the other course it might be 
opened and this one closed. 


As among the men of to-day, there seem to have been 
different grades of dwellings, and the sachem usually dwelt 
in a more pretentious abode. Skins of greater value 
adorned his couch, and linings of mats hung upon the walls 
of his house. These were also ornamented with cunning 
devices wrought by the deft fingers of his squaw, as well 
as the fruits of many a chase or wartrail. The capital 
or chief village of the confederation of the Merrimack 
valley was near the " Brave Lands " of the Penacooks, until 
they were routed there by the fiery Mohawks, their long- 
time enemies, and forced to move lower down the river. 

The roads of the sons of the Stone Age were con- 
cealed paths, denominated trails, rather than open high- 
ways, for these would prove of advantage to those enemies 
around them. They always sought, when they could, 
some waterway leading in that direction. Thus their 
light skiff, usually made of birch bark, and which has 
become known as the "canoe," was their favorite means 
of travel. These canoes were made of bark taken from 
the birch, and sometimes, but seldom, from the elm, 
and were often made with a delicate mechanism that a 
white man would be puzzled to imitate. They were as light 
as an Qgg shell and as airy as a feather. Despite this fact 
they unhesitatingly set forth upon long and perilous jour- 
neys, stemming the rapids of some turbulent stream or 
daring the dangers of an inland sea. 

In winter the Indians resorted to a cunning device, 
claimed to have been invented by a woman, and which has 
been given the name of snow shoes. By means of these 
they were enabled to thread the dim old forest with ease in 
the midst of winter snows. In fact, it was then, when the 
undergrowth and broken-down trees were banked under the 
snow, that they were able to make their longest journeys. 

Continued in the June number. 

Cfce Mmanoomtc ^ountatrtg 

By Sam Walter Foss 

They stood there in the distance, mysterious and lone, 

Each with a hazy vapor above its towering dome ; 
They stood like barriers between the unknown and the known, 

The Uncanoonuc Mountains which I used to see from home. 
And far beyond the mountains, I was told, the world was wide, 

And in fancy on the thither side it was my wont to roam ; 
I saw the glories of the world upon the other side 

Of the Uncanoonuc Mountains which I used to see from home. 

On this side the Uncanoonucs was an old, ramiliar scene; 

But they were burnished pillars on which rainbows used to rest ; 
On this side the Uncanoonucs all was commonplace and mean; 

They were red with sunset splendor at the threshold of the West. 
They were Mountains of Enchantment that stood guard at the frontier 

Of the Borderland of Mystery; bathed in twilight's cri nson foam. 
And I longed to reach their summits, and pass on without a fear, 

Through the Uncanoonuc Mountains which I used to see from home. 

I Lave passed the Uncanoonucs, and have travelled far away 

Through the Borderland of Mystery upon an endless quest; 
But other Uncanoonucs, glimmering in the twilight gray, 

Still lift their hazy summits at the threshold of the West. 
One misty mountain overpassed upon the march of time, 

Another summit breaks in view, and onward still I roam — 
Another mountain in the mist which beckons me to climb, 

Like the Uncanoonuc Mountains which I used to see from home. 

Though beyond the Uncanoonucs all the glories that I seek 

Fail to fashion to realities before my wistful eyes, 
I still will chase the Vision — see her standing on the peak 

Of that other Uncanoonuc towering in the western skies. 
I grasp my mountain-climbing staff — there yet is ample time — 

For some other Uncanoonuc ever lifts its distant dome — 
With my boyhood faith I'll climb it, as I used to long to climb 

The Uncanoonuc Mountains which I used to see from home. 


- *"£ 


By Ezra S. Stearns, A. M. 
(Cotieluded from the April number) 

25. Jonathan Hill, Billerica. There were two of the 
same name living in Billerica, and nothing is found to deter- 
mine which of them was a soldier in Captain Tyng's com- 

First, Jonathan Hill, son of Jonathan and Mary 
(Brackett) Hill, was born August 21, 1669, and lived in 
Billerica, where he died December 15, 1743. 

Second, Jonathan Hill, son of Nathaniel and Elizabeth 
(Homes) Hill, was born in Billerica, June 27, 1674, and died 
in Chelmsford, March 24, 171 1. Both were grandsons of 
Ralph Hill, of Woburn and Billerica. 

26. Jonathan Parker, Chelmsford, son of John and 
Mary Parker, was born in Chelmsford, January 2, 1683. 
His right appears to have been improved by Thomas Par- 
ker. I do not find that he had a son Thomas but he had a 
brother of that name. 

27. Peter Talbot, Chelmsford, was an emigrant from 
England. He lived several years in Dorchester, but at the 
time of his service in the snow-shoe company, under Capt. 
William Tyng, he was a resident of Chelmsford. At that 
time he must have been fully fifty years of age. His right 
in the township was given to his son, George Talbot, who 
lived several years in Stoughton. 

28. Stephen Keyes, Chelmsford. There is no record 
of his birth and it has been thought that he probably was a 
son of Elias Keyes of Sudbury. He received land in 
Chelmsford in the right of Solomon Keyes, and it is possible 
he was a son of Solomon and Frances (Grant) Keyes. He 



was married March 7, 1706, by Jonathan Tyng, Esq., to 
Anna Robbins. He died in Chelmsford February 6, 1714. 

29. Benoni Perham, Chelmsford, lived in Chelmsford. 
He was living in 1722 and died a short time after that date. 
His son, Samuel, represented his interest in the grant of 

30. Eleazer Parker, Groton, son of James and Eliza- 
beth (Long) Parker, was born November 9, 1660. He lived 
in Groton. In the winter of 1704-5 he again served in a 
company commanded by Capt. William Tyng and died at 
Norridgewock, leaving a wife and seven children. 

31. Thomas Cummings, Dunstable, son of John and 
Sarah (Howlet) Cummings, was born October 6, 1658. In 
his youth his father settled in Dunstable. He was an uncle 
of No. 6. He was a deacon of the church. He died Jan- 
uary 20, 1722-3. 

32. Josiah Richardson, Chelmsford, son of Capt. 
Josiah and Remembrance (Underwood) Richardson, was 
born in Chelmsford May 18, 1665. He was a town clerk 
and selectman of Chelmsford, where he died October 17, 
171 1. His wife was a daughter of Deacon John Blanchard. 

33. Thomas Tarbell, Groton, son of Thomas and 
Anna (Longley) Tarbell, was born in Groton July 6, 1667, 
where he died January 24, 1717. The ThomasTarbell who 
was an active proprietor was his son and a prominent citi- 
zen of Groton. 

34. Jonathan Richardson, Billerica, son of Thomas 
and Mary (Stimpson) Richardson, was born in Billerica 
February 14, 1682, where he died August 13, 1720. He 
had three sons, Jonathan, Thomas and Abiel. 

35. James Blanchard, Groton, son of Deacon John 
and Hannah Blanchard of Dunstable. He was born in 
Charlestown before his parents removed to Dunstable. He 
settled in Groton and was the town clerk of that town from 
March, 1695, to March, 1696, and from December, 1696, 
until his death. He lived only a few weeks after service in 
the snow-shoe company and died in February, 1704. He 


left a widow, Anna, and four children. He was a brother 
of No. 5. In Massachusetts Acts and Resolves, 1704, is 
found: "The petition of Anna Blanchard of Groton, 
widow, setting forth that her husband, James Blanchard, is 
lately deceased, his sickness was occasioned by the hard- 
ships and difficulties he underwent under Capt. Tyng in his 
late Expedition. Prays to be eased of charge of his funeral. 
Granted March 9, 1703-4." 

36. Henry Farwell, son of Henry Farwell of Chelms- 
ford, Mass., was born about 1665. He was one of the 
early settlers of Dunstable. In the later years of Queen 
Anne's War his house was one of the seven garrisons in 
Dunstable. His son, Oliver, was one of the victims of the 
Indian ambush at Naticook, September 5, 1724. His son, 
Josiah, was a lieutenant in Captain Lovewell's Company* 
and was killed by the Indians in the fight at Pigwacket, 
May 8, 1725. 

37. Joseph Gilson, Groton, son of Joseph and Mary 
(Cooper) Gilson, was born in Groton March 8, 1666-7. He 
lived in Groton many years and probably died there. 

38. John Richardson, Chelmsford, son of Capt. Josiah 
and Remembrance (Underwood) Richardson, was a brother 
of No. 32. Josiah Richardson was born in Chelmsford 
February 14, 1669-70, where he died September 13, 1746. 

39. Samuel Woods, Groton, son of Samuel and Alice 
(Rushton) Woods, was born in Cambridge January 3, 1660- 
61. The family removed from Cambridge to Groton in 
1662. Samuel, Jr., married Hannah Farwell of Chelms- 
ford and lived in Groton, where he died in 1712. 

40. Ephraim Hildreth, Chelmsford, removed from 
Chelmsford to Dracut in 1712, and there died September 
26, 1740. He was town clerk of Dracut, a major of the 
militia, and an active man in town and business affairs. 
He was one of the proprietors of Concord and an influen- 
tial factor among the proprietors of Tyngstown. At one 
time he was the owner of the saw-mill. 


41. Samuel Chamberlain, Chelmsford, son of Thomas 
and Sarah (Proctor) Chamberlain, was born in Chelmsford 
January 11, 1679. He was a prominent citizen and styled 
Capt. Samuel Chamberlain in Chelmsford records. He 
died April 12, 1767. There was a Samuel Chamberlain of 
about the same age, a son of Samuel and Elizabeth Cham- 
berlain, who was styled in Chelmsford records Lieut. Sam- 
uel Chamberlain. The Tyngstown proprietors' records call 
the grantee Capt. Samuel Chamberlain, which makes it 
reasonably certain that the Samuel first named was the sol- 
dier and grantee. 

42. Stephen Pierce, Chelmsford, son of Stephen and 
Tabitha (Parker) Pierce and grandson of Thomas Pierce of 
Woburn, was born in Chelmsford in 1678. He lived in 
Chelmsford and was the owner of many acres of land. He 
died September 9, 1749. This Stephen Pierce was the 
grandfather of Gov. Benjamin Pierce of Hillsborough, who 
was the father of President Franklin Pierce. 

43. Timothy Spalding, Chelmsford, son 01 John and 
Hannah (Hale) Spalding, was born about 1676. He lived 
in the part of Chelmsford now Westford, where he died 
April 14, 1763. He was a brother of No. 13. 

" 44. Paul Fletcher, Chelmsford, was the son of Joshua. 
His father was twice married: First, in 1668, to Gussies 
Jewell; second, in 16S2, to Sarah YVilley. I cannot state 
which of the wives was the mother of Paul. The Fletcher 
genealogy states that Paul Fletcher was a snow-shoe man 
in 1724. The date is an error. 

45. Judge John Tyng, son of Major William and 
Lucy (Clarke) Tyng, born inChelmsford January 28, 1704-5, 
and graduated from Harvard University in 1725. He lived 
in Tyngsboro', where he died in 1797, aged ninety-two 
years. He was a colonel of the militia, a representative of 
Dunstable, Mass., which then included Tyngsboro', and 
speaker of the house. He was a delegate to the convention 
at Boston, in 1768, "for the preservation of the public 
peace and safety," and a delegate to the Provincial Congress, 


which assembled at Cambridge and Watertown in 1775, but 
he is best known as a judge of the courts of Middlesex 
county, which office he held many years. 

46. Col. Eleazer Tyng, Dunstable, son of Col. Jon- 
athan and Sarah (Usher) Tyng, was born in the part of 
Dunstable now called Tyngsboro' April 3, 1690, and grad- 
uated at Harvard University in 171 2. He was a magistrate 
and a colonel; an active and useful man. He was buried 
in the Tyng burial ground, about one mile below Tyngsboro' 
Village, Upon a broad, horizontal tablet is inscribed, 
"Underneath are entombed the remains of Eleazer Tyng, 
Esq., who died May 21, 1782, aged 92; Mrs. Sarah Tyng, 
who died May 23, 1753, aged 59; John Alford Tyng, Esq., 
who died Sept. 4, 1775, aged 44." John Alford Tyng, Esq., 
was a son of Colonel Eleazer. Fox's Dunstable is in error 
in calling him Judge Tyng. The judge, John Tyng, is 
No. 45. 

47. Thomas Colburn, son of Edward Colburn of 
Chelmsford, was born in 1674. He lived in Dunstable, 
where he died November 2, 1770. The committee of the 
General Court were instructed to admit six men who served 
under Capt. John Lovewell and were omitted in the grants 
of Pembroke, N. H., and Petersham, Mass. In the same 
connection there appears in the Massachusetts Archives 
the petition of Zaccheus Lovewell, Thomas Colburn, Peter 
Powers, Josiah Cummings, Henry Farwell, Jr., and Nich- 
olas Crosby, alleging that they served against the Indian 
enemy under Captain Lovewell, either on his first or sec- 
ond march, and that all the other soldiers of Captain Love- 
well's companies have been rewarded in grants of land. 
Thomas Colburn appears to have been the only one of the 
six petitioners who was made a grantee of Tyngstown. 

48. John Colburn, Dunstable, son of John and grand- 
son of Edward Colburn, was born in Dunstable. John, the 
father, died December 1, 1700, and John, the son, was the 
representative of his grandfather, Edward Colburn of 


Chelmsford, who was killed in an ambuscade in King 
Philip's War. 

49. Caleb Blodget, son of Samuel and Huldah 
(Simonds) Blodget, was born in Woburn November n, 
1691. He lived in Woburn, where he died June 17, 1745. 
He was a captain, an inn-holder and an active citizen. It 
is probable that he was admitted a proprietor in recognition 
of his services in obtaining the grant, and on this account 
he was also paid a sum of money. 

Captain Caleb was the father of Samuel Blodget, a resi- 
dent of Goffstown for several years, and the most conspic- 
uous pioneer in the founding and building of Manchester. 

50. Col. William Lawrence, Groton, son of John and 
Anna (Tarbell) Lawrence, was born in Lexington August 
1, 1697. He settled in Groton. His wife was a sister of 
Col. Benjamin Prescott. He was a representative of 
Groton seventeen years, and filled many other positions of 
trust and responsibility. He was a private in the Lovewell 
War and a colonel in the French and Indian War. He 
died May 19, 1764. 

51. Jonas Clark, Esq., Chelmsford, son of Rev. 
Thomas Clark of Chelmsford, was born December 20, 1684. 
He was a colonel and a magistrate. Several meetings of 
the proprietors of Tyngstown were held at his house in 
Chelmsford. He died April 8, 1770. His sister, Lucy or 
Lucia, was the wife of Major William Tyng, and his sister 
Elizabeth married Rev. John Hancock of Lexington, and 
was grandmother of Gov. John Hancock, one of the signers 
of the Declaration of Independene. 

52. Hon. Andrew Belcher, son of Andrew and Elizabeth 
(Danforth) Belcher, was born in Cambridge January 1, 
1646-7. In early life he was a mariner and commanded the 
vessel which opportunely arrived with provisions at Smith's 
Garrison on the evening after the Fort Fight in King 
Philip's War, December, 1676. Later he was the most 
prominent merchant of New England and was employed in 
many public stations. He was a councillor from 1702 to 


1 7 17. He died October 31, 1717-. In accordance with the 
conditions of the grant, Andrew Belcher's heirs became 
grantees on account of his prompt action in supplying the 
army with provisions. 

53. Thomas Parker and William Reed. In a descrip- 
tion of lands belonging to this right, the first name is writ- 
ten " Rev. Mr. Thomas Parker." He was a son of Josiah 
Parker of Groton, Woburn and Cambridge, and he was 
born in Cambridge December 7, 1700. He graduated from 
Harvard University in 171 8. At nineteen years of age he 
was ordained and installed over the church in Dracut early 
in 1720, and there labored and preached until his death, 
March 18, 1765. He attended several of the meetings of 
the proprietors, and was moderator of one or more meet- 

William Read, the joint owner of this right, without 
doubt, was William Read of Chelmsford, son of Thomas 
Read, and was born about 1688. He married Hannah 
Kates and lived in Chelmsford. Among his children were 
Robert Read of Amherst and Col. William Read of Litch- 
field, in whose honor R.eed's Ferry was named. This fam- 
ily generally wrote the name Read, while the ferry is writ- 
ten Reed's Ferry. 

54. Jonathan Shepley and Zachariah Hildreth. Jon- 
athan Shepley was the son of John Shepley, No. 1, and 
Zachariah Hildreth probably was a son of Ephraim Hil- 
dreth, No. 40. Shepley and Hildreth were the petitioners 
for the grant, and the admission of the sons probably was 
a complimentary act. 

55. Thomas Tarbell, Associate. The word associate 
at this early date was closely allied with the present defini- 
tion of partner. He was the same as No. S3y Dut there is 
no explanation of the interests he represented. 

56. John Chandler. This grantee did not attend the 
meetings of the grantees and the records of the propri- 
etors afford no added information of the man. There were 
several men of the same name and of a possible age any 


one of whom might have been a proprietor. In the absence 
of positive information, we could assume that John Chan- 
dler, grantee of Tyngstovvn, was the John Chandler, son 
of John and Mary (Raymond) Chandler, born October 18, 
1693, and who lived in Worcester, Mass., after about 1730. 
He was a representative, sheriff and judge. He died 
August 7, 1762. 

57. Jonathan Hartwell, Chelmsford, son of John and 
Elizabeth (Wright) Hartwell, was born in Concord February 
15, 1691-2. He lived several years in Chelmsford and, by 
division of the town, in Westford. He died in Littleton 
October 18, 1778. The father, John, and his brother, Wil- 
liam, were soldiers in King Philip's War. The heirs of 
William were grantees of Templeton, Mass. Jonathan 
Hartwell probably was admitted a grantee on account of 
the service of his father. See the clause in the grant rela- 
tive to soldiers "at the Fort Fight or Long March in the 
Narragansett War." 

58. Hon. William Dudley, Roxbury, son of Gov. 
Joseph and Rebecca (Tyng) Dudley, was born in 1686. His 
mother was a sister of Col. Jonathan Tyng. He graduated 
from Harvard University in 1704, and by profession was a 
lawyer. He was a representative of Roxbury many years 
and was speaker of the house and a member of the council 
from 1729 to 1740. He was also a judge of the court of 
common pleas of Suffolk county, and by Washburn is said 
to have been the first educated lawyer on the bench of the 
inferior court. He died August 10, 1743. He was the 
member of the committee representing the council to ascer- 
tain the names of the soldiers in-Capt. William Tyng's 
company of snow-shoe men and to admit the sixty grantees 
of Tyngstown. His associates on the committee were 
Benjamin Prescott and Benjamin Tompson of the house of 
representatives, and each of the committee became a 

59. Col. Benjamin Prescott, son of Jonas and Mary 
(Loker) Prescott, was born in Groton January 4, 1695-6. 


He was a representative of Groton in 1723, 1724, 1727, 
1734 to 1738, and died in office. He was a special justice 
of both the inferior and superior courts, and at all times a 
prominent man of his time. Being a member of the house 
in 1735, he was appointed one of the committee to deter- 
min who were entitled to admission as grantees of Tyngs- 
town. While he lived he was an active factor in the affairs 
of the proprietors. He died August 3, 1738. 

60. William Tompson, Billerica, son of Capt. Joseph 
and Mary (Denison) Tompson, grandson of Rev. William 
Tompson of Braintree, was born in Billerica February 7, 
1685-6. He was an influential citizen of Billerica, town clerk, 
selectman, representative from 1731 to 1738 and in later 
years. While a member of the house in 1735, he was 
appointed one of the committee to admit grantees to the 
township. He died October 28, 1753. 

ftearsarge tn j^tbtomter 

By George Bancroft Griffith 

Like a pilot's booth on a grand ship's deck, 
Whose top the driving hailstones fleck, 
I see the lone house far away 
That crowns Kearsarge's crest to-day. 

And memory recalls the craft 
That left her sinking foe abaft, 
Named for this mountain famed for aye, 
There in its grandeur stern and gray. 

Butyovoi "j^arp'g lltttle Hamfr" 

Story of the Famous Poem 

By George Bancroft Griffith 

FEW of the stories that are believed so implicitly 
in childhood are left us that it is pleasant to find 
even one that is true. The little idyl of " Mary's 
Lamb," undoubtedly the most popular poem ever 
written for children in any language, was composed by a 
New Hampshire girl; and Newport, in Sullivan county, one 
of the most beautiful towns in the Granite State, was the 
scene of this famous nursery rhyme. 

As many are aware, there are few poems of which 
there has been so much question as to the real author as of 
this. "Mary Had a Little Lamb" has been claimed by 
some to be of English origin, and by others to be of Massa- 
chusetts production, but the lasting praise for giving it to 
the world belongs to Sarah J. Buell Hale, a daughter of the 
late Gordon Buell, who was born on the so-called " Dr. San- 
born farm," in the hamlet of Guild, about two miles from 
the center of Newport village. 

The Bay State version would have us believe that the 
first three verses of the poem were written by John Rowl- 
stone, who, after the fashion of a century ago, prepared for 
college with the minister at Sterling and died during his 
first year at Harvard. It is claimed that he composed them 
to commemorate the lamb's affection tor its mistress, who 
was Miss Mary E. Sawyer, and afterward Mrs. Columbus 
Tyler, for many years matron of the McLean Asylum for 
the Insane at Somerville. It is said that Miss Sawyer's 
lamb grew to be a sheep and lived for many years, and when 
at last it died Mary grieved so much that her mother took 
some of its wool, which was "as white as snow/' and 



knitted a pair of stockings for her to wear in remembrance 
of her darling. 

But the building now owned by George Fairbanks, 
Esq., formerly a schoolhouse at Guild, is the place directly 
connected with this deathless poem, and here, almost one 
hundred years ago, Sarah J. Buell used to come with her 
playmates from the Sanborn farm, and frequently one of 
her pet lambs followed demurely behind, lingering in the 
vicinity until the session was over, to accompany her home 
or enjoy a frisky ramble elsewhere. " Many are the tongues 
which have spoken of this same humble structure, and 
many are the childish minds which have pondered on the 
story about incidents which happened here." 

I am indebted to Mr. F. E. Joy, of Claremont, N. H., 
for some of the facts herein presented, and for the follow- 
ing letters published in connection with an article from his 
pen in the Inter-Staie Journal, which serve to show the rea- 
son for faith in the Newport origin of the rhyme. The 
first letter is from Mrs. Hale's son, Horatio, author of sev- 
eral works of great labor and research, and distinguished as 
an ethnologist. He says : 

" I am asked for a statement of the facts relating to 
the authorship and the first publication of the well-known 
poem, * Mary's Lamb.' The poem was written sixty-nine 
years ago, by my mother, Mrs. Sarah J. Buell Hale. It 
was first published in 1830 by the well-known firm of 
Marsh, Capen & Lyon, in my mother's little book, entitled 
* Poems for Our Children.' This book, which is now before 
me, comprises only twenty-four duodecimo pages, in a stiff 
paper cover. It is not a compilation, but an original work, 
composed throughout by Mrs. Hale. This fact is stated 
as clearly as words can express it in the introductory prefix 
to the poems : 
" ' To Jill Good Children in the United States : 

"'Dear Children, — I wrote this book for you, to 
please and instruct you. I know little children love to read 
rhymes and any little verses, but they often read silly 


rhymes ; such manner of their time is not good. I intended 
when I began to write this book to furnish you with a few 
pretty songs and poems which would teach you truth and, I 
hope, to induce you to love truth and goodness. Children who 
love their parents and their home can soon teach their hearts 
to love God and their country. I offer this, the first of 
"Poems for Our Children." If you like these, I shall soon 
write the second part, and perhaps I shall make a large 

"With regard to the story of Mr. Tyler and young 
John Rowlstone," Mr. Hale continues, "it is certain that 
Mrs. Hale knew nothing of it until many years after her 
poem had been published. 

" On this point I may add some letters (one of which 
we give below in addition to the one from Mr. Hale) writ- 
ten at my mother's request in the year 1878, the year pre- 
ceding that of her death. In October of the former year a 
letter was received by her at her home in Philadelphia, from 
a lady in Boston, connected with a popular periodical, in- 
forming her of an impression existing in that city that the 
first three quatrains of 'Mary's Lamb' were written by a 
Mr. Rowlstone, about the year 1817, and asking for the real 
facts. One of my mother's children, at her request, replied 
in the following teims: 

"'Your courteous letter, addressed to my mother, Mrs. 
Sarah J. Hale, relative to the authoress of the poem, " Mary's 
Lamb," was duly received, but my mother has not been well 
enough to reply to it. In her behalf I beg to say the poem in 
question first appeared in a book of twenty-four pages, pub- 
lished in Boston in 1830 by Marsh, Capen & Lyon, entitled 
"Poems for Our Children," by Mrs. Sarah J. Hale, My 
mother states that every poem in this book was of her own 
composition. What can have given rise to the impression 
that some part of this particular poem was written by another 
person, she does not know. There is no foundation for it 
whatever.' " 


For comparison, "Mary's Lamb" is here given as it 
first appeared. It is frequently printed in an imperfect 


Mary had a little lamb, 

Its fleece was as white as snow, 
And everywhere that Mary went 

The lamb was sure to go ; 
He followed her to school one day, 

That was against the rule; 
It made the children laugh and play 

To see a lamb at school. 

And so the teacher turned him out, 

But still he lingered near, 
And waited patiently about, 

Till Mary did appear; 
And then he ran to her, and la.d 

His head upon her arm, 
As if he said — " I'm not afraid ; 

You'll keep me from all harm." 

" What makes the lamb love Mary so ? " 

The eager children cry; 
"O, Mary loves the lamb, you know," 

The teacher did reply ; 
"And you each gentle animal 

In confidence may bind; 
And make them follow at your call, 

If you were always kind." 

Mrs. Hale was born October 24, 1795, and published 
her first literary efforts in the local paper of her native vil- 
lage. Hon. Cyrus Barton and Hon. Edmund Burke, both 
eminent in their day as legal lights, have been editors of 
this sheet, which is still flourishing. Her education was 
principally directed by her mother and a brother in college, 
and by her husband, David Hale, a distinguished lawyer. 
On his death, in 1822, she was left dependent upon her own 
exertions for her support and that of her five children, the 
eldest of whom was but seven years of age, and as a 
resource she hopefully turned to literature. After publish- 
ing several volumes both in prose and verse, she was called 
to Boston to take charge of the newly established Ladies' 
Magazine which she ably conducted for nine years. While 
she was in Boston she engaged actively in philanthropic and 


educational work, and originated in that city the Seaman's 
Aid Society, which was the parent of many similar organi- 
zations in various ports. 

Later, Mrs. Hale removed to Philadelphia, where she 
edited Godey's Lady's Book for forty years. She was the 
author of "Woman's Record," a large biographical and 
critical work, perhaps her most important. Her novel, 
" Northwood," appeared in two volumes, and secured pop- 
ular praise. She also edited cookery books of standard 
value, annuals, and the letters of Madam de Sevigne and 
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. It was through her advo- 
cacy that the idea was practically adopted of educating 
women for medical and missionary service in foreign lands, 
and she was the most prominent of those who formed the 
Ladies' Medical Missionary Society in Philadelphia. Sub- 
sequently the Woman's Union Missionary Society for 
heathen lands was formed in New York, with its chief 
branch in Philadelphia, where Mrs. Hale was president for 
several years. The fair that was organized by which the 
women of New England carried out the plan of raising 
fifty thousand dollars to complete the Bunker Hill Monu- 
ment was first suggested and advocated by Mrs. Hale in 
her Boston magazine, and here also, according to a valuable 
paper contributed to the 'Boston Globe, her plan for the 
simultaneous and national celebration of Thanksgiving Day 
was first proposed. 

So, while reading her fugitive poems, many of which 
have become widely familiar, as well as the most famous of 
all, "Mary's Lamb," let us remember that it was at her sug- 
gestion that Thanksgiving Day became a national festival, 
to be held on the same day throughout the country, and 
the suggestion was adopted by President Lincoln in 1864. 

A busy, most useful Christian career ended on earth 
when, upon April 30, 1879, New Hampshire's gifted daugh- 
ter, Sarah Josepha (Buell) Hale, passed away. 

^tamonbsi in 4Srantte 

Johnny Appleseed and His Mission 

By An Old-Timer 

u|§OT infrequently some rude and unlettered person, in 
an humble way, has accomplished a mission worthy 
?##5 of a wider and more lasting recognition than the 
traditions of village gossipers. New Hampshire 
has furnished her share of these diamonds in granite, if 
you please, whose unkempt features would blush at the 
thought of having their names mentioned by future gener- 

tApropos of the interesting article in the March number 
of Granite State Magazine, by Professor Thyng, upon 
"The Harvest of the Orchard," the singular life-story of 
him whom he speaks of as " Johnny Appleseed" seems 
worthy of relating, inasmuch as there is good reason to 
believe that this kind-hearted missionary was a native of 
this state, though some writers have claimed somewhat in- 
definitely that he was born near Boston. His birthplace 
was undoubtedly Seabrook, and his parents, in humble cir- 
cumstances, were named Chapman. He was distinguished 
from the rest of the family by that good, old American 
name of Jonathan. Coming upon the stage of action just 
before the breaking out of the War of Independence, a 
few years after its close, having barely reached his majority, 
he drifted to Western Pennsylvania where, in its wild 
frontier life his mania for planting apple seeds was first dis- 
covered. Tired of the rapid settlement of that wilderness, 
he soon pushed out for the West. In 1801 he visited Ohio 
with a horse load of apple seeds, which he had gathered 
from the cider presses of western Pennsylvania. He 
planted his seeds on the fertile spots, on the banks of the 



Licking Creek. In 1806 he was seen by a settler drifting 
down the Ohio River with two canoes lashed together and 
loaded with apple seeds, destined for the western border of 
the white settlement. He often planted as much as a 
bushel of seeds in one locality, then inclosed the spot with 
a slight fence or guard of brush, when he would leave the 
place till the trees had in a measure grown. Planting one 
stock of seeds, he returned to Pennsylvania for another, 
which he gathered from the cider presses in different places. 
He first carried the seeds in linen bags, but the dense 
underbrush, hostile with thorns and briers, made leathern 
bags the only safe ones for his purpose. Sometimes v the 
bags found transportation on the back of an old, broken- 
down horse, but more often on his own sturdy shoulders. 
He was a man of vigorous muscle and great endurance or he 
could not have stood the long, weary journeys through the 
lonely and trackless wilderness for so many years, journeys 
in which he was loaded like a mule ascending the Andes. 
He always planted his seeds in some remote, picturesque 
spot, and there let them grow to be claimed by the settlers, 
whose homes sprung up in the isolated clearings. In this 
way the wilderness was made to blossom as the rose, and 
the foundation was laid -for that immense growth of fruit 
trees whose yield to-day forms so important a part of the 
annual products of the great state of Ohio. 

When the trees were large enough for sale, Johnny 
either sold them or left them to be sold by some settler for 
him. In this business he was as methodical as a merchant. 
The really poor got trees for nothing; of others more able 
he took old clothing, some meal, or anything he could use, 
in exchange. Of those able to pay he demanded money ^ 
which he was seldom without. He usually took notes pay- 
able at some indefinite period. This done, he paid no more 
attention to the matter. Quite often it was the last time he 
ever saw the giver of the note. His wants were few and 
he cared little about money. He used what money he got 
in buying Swedenborgian books, which he gave to the set- 


tiers where he stayed, and he very often helped poor fam- 
ilies in need of the necessaries of life. 

An old, infirm horse excited his pity. Buying up old, 
broken-down horses, and leaving them in charge of some 
one who was pledged to care for them, was another part of 
this strange man's mission. He had at times quite a drove 
of aged and maimed horses under the care of some humane 
farmer. Inflicting pain on a dumb creature was with him 
an unpardonable sin. This sympathy extended to the 
smallest animals, even to insects. He put out a fire in 
the camp in the woods because the wind blew the mosqui- 
toes into the flame, saying as he quenched the blaze: "God 
forbid that I should build a fire for my comfort which 
should be the means of destroying any of His creatures." 
He once built a fire at the end of a hollow log in which he 
intended to pass the night, but finding a bear and her cubs 
occupying it, he removed the fire to the other end and slept 
in the snow rather than disturb the bears. A snake having 
bitten him, a friend asked him in regard to it. Johnny 
drew a long sigh and replied: " Poor fellow ! he only just 
touched me, when I in an ungodly passion put the heel of 
my scythe in him and went home." While at work in the 
woods a hornet got underneath his shirt and, although re- 
peatedly stung by the enraged insect, he deliberately took 
off his shirt and liberated the intruder. His friend laughed 
at him and asked why he did not kill the little imp, to which 
Johnny replied: "It would not be right to kill the poor 
thing, for it did not intend to hurt me." 

He lived the roughest life camping out in the woods 
or, if sleeping in a house, occupying the floor ; his dress was 
an indescribable medley, composed of cast-off clothing he 
had taken in exchange for apple trees. In later years this 
second-hand raiment he thought too luxurious, and wore as a 
principal garment an old coffee sack, in the bottom and sides 
of which he cut holes to thrust his head and arms through. 
He thought this a cloak good enough for any man to wear. 
He seldom wore shoes except in winter. For traveling on 


rough roads he wore a pair of rude sandals. He bought no 
covering for his feet, used old cast-off boots or shoes, generally 
unmatched, and wore them while they would stick to his feet. 
He made his own head-gear. For a long time he wore the 
large tin dipper in which he cooked his mush while travel- 
ing. But it failed to shade his face from the sun. Hence 
he made a hat of pasteboard, with an immense peak in 
front, and bent down at the sides to protect his face from 
the heat. He led a blameless and moral life and likened 
himself to the primitive Christians, literally taking no 
thought of the morrow. This conviction made him at all 
times serenely happy. At one time an itinerant minister, 
holding forth on the public square in Mansfield, was de- 
nouncing the sins of this life and pride in dress, and 
exclaimed inquiringly : " Where now is the barefooted 
Christian traveling to heaven?" Johnny, who was lying 
on his back on the ground near by, took the question in its 
literal sense, raised his bare feet in the air and vociferated, 
*' Here's your primitive Christian!" to the discomfiture of 
the well-dressed missionary. The physician who was pres- 
ent at his death was heard to inquire what was Johnny 
Appleseed's religion. He had never seen a man in so placid 
a state at the approach of death, and so ready to enter upon 
another life. . 

Bn Sttbtan Hegenb 

By S. S. Griffin 

From the store of mystic legends 

Told by Indians ages past, 
Handed down for generations, 

To the present time at last, 


There's a quaint and curious story 

That, when man first came to earth, 
Twas the summer of the seasons, 

Filled with flowers, and all was mirth. 

All the long and pleasant summer, 

Ate he fruits and berries rare, 
Lived in happy, calm contentment, 

In his kingdom bright and fair. 

Soon, howe'er, the sky was clouded, 

And the north wind 'gan to blow ; 
Then o'er all his wide-spread kingdom 

Fell the white and drifting snow. 

Then the poor man, sore bewildered, 

Wondering what it all could mean, 
Wandered o'er the snow-clad mountains, 

Through the darksome wild ravine, 

Seeking mellow, golden apples, 

And for fruits of summer clime, 
But alas ! they all were covered 

By the snows of winter time. 

So he chased the deer and bison, ' 

Through the forest far did roam, 
Killed them with a club of oak-tree, 

Brought them to his cavern home. 

But the snows kept falling, falling, 

O'er the wide earth day by day, 
Till the poor man, almost buried, 

Through the drifts could scarce make way. 

Then he tried to make a snow-shoe, 

W T orked from morning until eve ; 
Made the frames, but, vain endeavor, 

Tried the centers then to weave. 


Then, discouraged, hungry, weary, 
He departs in search of food ; 

Soon returning thro' the snow banks, 
§aw a sight that changed his mood. 

As he gazed upon the snow-shoe, 
Lo ! the work was almost done. 

Then said he, " Some kind protector, 
On my snow-shoe has begun." 

Once again he goes ahunting 
Till the shades of evening fall ; 

Watches for the kind protector, 
Sees a bird, and that is all. 

_So he sets a trap to catch it, 
Goes ahunting till the night; 
Then, returning to his cavern, 
Caught the birdling fair and tight. 

Then a wondrous change transpired, 
And the stars looked down in awe ; 

For the bird became a woman, 

And was made the red man's squaw. 

Then they made the wondrous snow-shoes, 
On them walked o'er hill and dale, 

Till the snows of winter vanished, 
Fringed with verdure was the vale. 

Thus they lived in happy freedom 
All the joyous summer days. 

From them sprang the several nations, 
So their shadowy legend says. 

Historic 2£eeos of M^V Hanbs 

The Boy Without Fear 

By Victor St. Clair 

JNDER a republican form of government it often 
happens that boys rise from lowly stations in life 
to high positions, sometimes becoming rulers of 
the country. We have many notable examples of 
this kind in the history of our republic. In a nation gov- 
erned by hereditary monarchs we do not look for a ruler of 
such humble beginning. Still, now and then, we find the 
exception to this, and nowhere with more striking results 
than in Japan, whose ancient feudalism was cut in twain by 
the sword of our hero, who became the most renowned of 
her great men. 

For over two hundred years Dai Nippon, as the natives 
of the empire of the Far East know their homeland, had 
been struggling under a dual system of government, utterly 
lost to human liberty and reeking with the useless sacrifice 
of lives, when, in 1536, there was born of humble parents, 
living in the district of Aichi, in Owari, a boy destined to 
throw open the window of reform so the light of a new day 
might break upon the long, dark night of feudalism. Small 
promise could he have given at first of the part he was to 
play in future events. Besides having parents too poor 
and ignorant to help him, he was under-sized and so wizened 
and ill-favored of figure and feature that his playmates 
called him "the monkey-pine." This did not seem to dis- 
turb him, and at this early age he boldly declared that 
sometime they would not dare to mock him thus. 

At the games which they played he generally won, for 
he was both bold and cunning in his endeavors; in fact, 



he earned here another of the many names applied to him 
during life r that of "the boy without fear." It does not 
appear that he liked to assist in the work of his people, or 
else he had an ambition above the drudgery of his brothers 
and sisters, for when they went out to weed the young 
plants in the rice field, knee-deep in the mud-pulp, or sought 
upon the hillsides, with basket and grass-hook in hand, fod- 
der for the horses, he went to mingle with the soldiers 
camped near the town, exchanging arguments with them or 
striding some wild horse that they dared not break to the 
bridle. He was extremely fond of this quadruped, and this 
love had much to do toward leading him into the pathway 
of his wonderful fortune. 

One day, while a party of soldiers was bantering him 
concerning his small figue, a loose horse was seen coming 
down the street at a terrific pace. The men fled either way 
to escape the heels of the maddened brute, which turned 
neither to the right nor left at anything in its course. 
.1 — Directly ahead, as the furious creature was plunging on, 

was a party of pleasure-seekers, a hundred or more in num- 
ber, and mostly women and children, all unconscious of the 
peril menacing them. 

If the soldiers stood paralyzed with terror, the little 
boy they had pretended to despise had the presence of mind 
to realize that something must be done to turn the runaway 
aside, and some one must have the courage to do it. But 
instead of running out and trying to frighten the horse, he 
bounded into its very pathway, regardless of the danger to 
himself. Expecting he would be killed, some of the sol- 
diers shouted to him to get away. It proved that he had 
quite another purpose in his little head. As the flying 
steed, whose open mouth and distended nostrils were 
wreathed in foam and whose dark sides were dappled with 
froth and blood, reached him he caught the dangling rein 
in a firm hold. 

Then, nobody could tell how, for he was so small he 
could barely clutch the bit of strap, he alighted squarely 


upon the horse's back. No sooner had he gained this pre- 
carious perch, where he clung and looked like a veritable 
monkey, than he tugged upon the rein with such power 
that the bewildered animal swerved, stumbled, and fell to 
the earth. Its young rider went with it, but he was next 
seen astride its neck. 

Some of the spectators now rallied enough to come to 
the rescue of the plucky little fellow. The runaway horse 
was quickly secured, and the danger to the women and chil- 
dren averted by the heroic act of the little peasant boy, 
whom nobody until then had considered worthy of notice, 
except to deride him. 

It happened fortunately for the hero that the greatest 
general Japan had known, to that day, was a critical observer 
of the daring feat. He now came forward and asked the 
boy his name, who, looking the officer in the eye, said : 

"Hideyoshi," which means "the sun." 

"Bravo, my little man. Some day you will be a 

Now the great commander, whose name was Nobunaga, 
could not have paid the peasant boy any greater compli- 
ment. As a reward for his -daring feat he made him his 
betto or groom, a position that pleased Hideyoshi far better 
than working in the rice field. He was only ten then but, 
encouraged by his master in that direction, he soon became 
a soldier. 

So from early youth Hideyoshi was associated with the 
army, and he was so brave and shrewd that Nobunaga rap- 
idly advanced him, until he became one of his most trusted 
generals, and the remarkable success of the former lay in 
his wise selection of those whom he called around him to 
command. Hideyoshi had the rare quality of securing the 
confidence and admiration of his followers, and so certain 
did his fame spread that the boldest warriors flocked to the 
banner of this peasant leader. This banner is worthy of 
description on account of the strange device it bore, which 
was at first a single gourd; but, with each new victory, 


another one was added, so at last it bore a great cluster of 
gourds. After awhile a golden model of the original ban- 
ner was carrried at the head of his army, which lost but one 

When the gallant Nobunaga met an untimely fate, 
Hideyoshi speedily avenged his death. Finding then dis- 
ruptions of the army on every hand, he set about subduing 
the rival generals, winning victory after victory, until he 
met him who had been Nobunaga's youngest general, 
named Iyeyasu. If amazed at this outcome, he showed 
himself shrewd enough to profit by his defeat as no one 
else would have done. Seeing in Iyeyasu qualities that 
might be made useful to him, instead of seeking further 
opposition, he sought his friendship, promised him his sister 
in marriage, and the government of a province. Iyeyasu 
was wise enough to know that he was on the losing side, so 
he gladly accepted the terms, and from that time on the 
two worked together as friends and allies. 

With this union the warlike career of Hideyoshi ended, 
j and thenceforth we see him in the brighter scenes of his 

eventful life, the part that reflected the most credit upon 
his name and afforded the greatest good to his country, 
though the first stage led to this. He became the prime 
minister of the government, which gave him the rule of the 
empire in fact if not in name. So the great advance in 
. progress that Japan made during the following years are 
'properly credited to him. 

Realizing that soldiers in times of peace must be kept 
active in order to promote the welfare of the public, he 
began to give them employment by setting them to work 
making improvements in Kyoto, the ancient capital. He 
deepened the bed of the river Kamo, where it flowed shal- 
low, and paved it with flat stones. He dug so many canals 
at Osaka that this city deserved to be known as the " Ven- 
ice of Japan," and the importance of this place in modern 
times as a commercial center dates from his day. Here he 
built the great fortress, which was the wonder of his age, 


and the ruins of which are still pointed to with pride. At 
different places he erected castles, towers, pagodas and 
numerous public buildings. It is claimed he threw across 
the canals he had originated more than a thousand bridges, 
and in many other ways added to the prosperity of the 
empire. Better yet, he united the feudal provinces into a 
semblance of one grand whole, and promulgated laws and 
established a government that reflected the highest credit 
upon his wisdom and unfaltering determination to carry out 
his purpose. The first in high power to ever forgive his 
enemies and win them over to his support, caring little for 
rank or family prestige, he became extremely popular with 
the people, and under him Japan made great strides in 
reforms and progress. 

The reign of "The Taiko," as he was known, was 
noted for its glory upon sea as well as upon land. Vessels 
three times the size of the junks hitherto employed in car- 
raing on the sea trade were built, and her bold navigators 
penetrated into the far-distant seas, going as far as the 
island of Luzon, where many of their descendants may be 
found to-day. 

Hideyoshi, worn out through his strenuous efforts to 
give Japan a stable government, when he should have been 
in the prime of his life, died in 1598, leaving Iyeyasu to 
carry out the great work he had begun. He was followed 
to his tomb on the western slopes of the imperial city, 
and a temple to mark the locality was erected by his wife. 
This was burned so long ago that no one to-day can point 
out the spot where rest the remains of the illustrious 
founder of Japanese modern greatness. But he needs no 
monument to perpetuate his memory. Against the curtain 
of the Dark Age of Japanese history three names stand 
out like glittering stars ; in the order of their appearance, 
Nobunaga, Hideyoshi, and Iyeyasu, but the greatest and 
brightest of these was the son of a peasant. 

the dts;^ 

By Georgb Waldo Brownb 

We borrow from hearts that are meet, 

And never we think of the owner ; 
We trample love under the feet, 

With never a care for the donor ; 
Then in sorrow and loneliness wonder 
Why our hopes are thus riven asunder ! 
With the faithful and true the world over 

In sunshine and shadow and bliss. 
Be it maiden or mother or lover, 

'Tis the giver who sweetens the kiss. 

We behold not the beauty of flowers, 

Till their freshness and fragrance have flown ; 
We believe not in love that is ours, 

Till the sunshine of hearts we disown ; 
Then to wonder in anguish forlorn 
Why our hearts are left bleeding and torn 1 
With the loving and loved the world over, 

In sunshine and shadow and bliss, 
Be it sister or brother or lover, 

'Tis the giver who sweetens the kiss. 

We trip lightly o'er cares not our own 

In pursuing the pathway of pleasure ; 
But forget when our friendship has flown, 

And we fail to give mete for our measure. 
Then to wonder with all we have borne 
Why our joys are so fleeting and shorn. 
As an axiom of life the world over, 

Tho' we own to none other than this, 
Be it father or mother or lover 

'Tis the giver who sweetens the kiss. 


O^rtgm of ^artfapartUa 

An Indian Legend 


^ IVING close to Nature, the Indian was wont to 

ascribe to each inanimate object with which he 

?^%§£L came in contact a personality that was often 

beautiful and picturesque. According to his belief, 

nurtured by the legends of his race, the sarsaparilla plant 

had the following origin : 

Two sisters, noted alike for their beauty and wisdom, 
loved the same warrior, who was equally noted for his suc- 
cess on the hunting path and valor in war. But he treated 
the rival maids so nearly alike that each despaired of win- 
ning him to herself. In this situation one of them became 
so madly jealous that she induced another brave to kill her 
rival. Anxious to win the favor of this revengeful beauty, 
the Indian strangled the innocent maid. Then, the awful 
deed done, the murderer repented of his act and acknowl- 
edged that he had been driven to do it by the other. 

Thereupon the sorrowful lover, thus rudely discovering 
the true character of his sweetheart, scorned the vixen and, 
abandoning the chase, spent much of his time in the soli- 
tude of the spot where slept his loved one under the flower- 
ing birch. In due season a strange plant, with long, vine- 
like roots, sprang up on the little mound of earth, and the 
warrior knew his loved one lived in a new form of life. 
One day he fell asleep and dreamed this plant possessed 
wonderful curative qualities. So he gathered the plant and 
began to treat the sick, to soon become famed as a healer 
possessing the divine secret of health over disease. In 
this way the life of the Indian maid was immortalized and 
what her lover lost mankind gained. 


Slacofj J>!jeate 

By Lucien Thompson 

ACOB. SHEAFE was born at Newcastle, October 

21, 1715. He married, July 24, for his first wife, 

Hannah Seavy; his second wife was Mrs. Abigail 

(Halyburton) Hamilton. He died June 26, 1791. 

He had eleven children by his first wife, and nine of them 

lived to an average age of over eighty-one years. 

Mr. Sheafe was Commissary of the New Hampshire 
troops at Louisburg, in 1745, and he was a very successful 
merchant in Portsmouth. He was a deputy to the provin- 
cial legislature from 1767 to 1774, when the provincial gov- 
ernment ended. 

Many of the old families of Portsmouth owned slaves. 
Quite a number of slaves were owned in Durham, and the 
writer has in his possession an old deed or bill of sale of a 
negro slave named Joseph, which Jacob Sheafe of Portsmouth 
Merchant, sold to Robert Lapish of Durham, Joiner, June 
3, 1777. The bill of sale was made in the form of a deed 
and witnessed by Mr. Sheafe's son, William, then nineteen 
years of age.* 

Robert Lapish lived near Falls in Durham village, his 
house being the present barn connected with the parsonage. 
His grandson, Capt. Andrew Lapish Simpson, built the 
present Simpson house or parsonage about 1840. His 
widow, Mrs. Simpson, gave her property to the church and 
library association. 

♦Through the courtesy of Mr. Lucien Thompson, we are able to give 
the following negro bill of sale in the days when slavery existed in New 
Hampshire. The document, written in a plain hand, is in a good state of 
preservation, and our reproduction is an exact copy — Editor. 




fcnoto all ,p2en bp tfjesfc fDrcSenta that I Jacob Sheafe of Portsmouth 
in the State of New Hampshire Merchant for and in Consideration of the 
Sum of Six pounds Lawfull Money to me in hand paid by Robert Lapish 
of Durham Joiner the Receipt whereof is hereby acknowledged have 
granted, bargained and sold and by these Presents Do give, grant bargain 
sell convey -and confirm unto him the said Robert Lapish a certain Negro 
Man named Joseph about Thirty seven Years of Age To have and to 
hold the said Negro named Joseph to him the said Robert Lapish his 
Executors Administrators and Assigns to his and their proper Use Benefit 
& Behoof during the Life of said Negro and I the said Jacob for myself 
my Executors and Administrators do hereby avouch myself to be the true 
and lawfull Owner of said Negro till the ensealing and Delivery hereof 
and shall and will warrant and Defend the same to him the said Robert 
Lapish his Executors Administrators & Assigns during the Life of said 
Negro against the lawfull Claims and Demand of any Person or Persons 
whomsoever In Witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand and Seal 
the 3d Day of June Anno Domini 1777 

Signed Sealed and delivered 

in the Presence of 

William Sheafe [l. s.] 

blossoms anti ifrutt 

By Frances E. Fryatt 

Buds on apple boughs are swelling, 
Sweetest promise whisper they, 

Folded crimson faintly telling 

How they'll blossom in sweet May ; 

Fallling down, a scented snow, 

When the gentle zephyrs blow. 

Softly hinting, one by one, 
Of autumn apples in the sun, 
Growing russet, red and yellow 
Sweet and spicy, tart and mellow, 
Dropping 'neath the silver moon, 
When the Katy-did 's in tune. 

Cfje Host Mint 

A Legend of the Headwaters of the Androscoggin 

By Bailey K. Davis 

During the long and sanguinary struggle between the English and the 
Indians that drifted back and forth between Maine and New Hampshire and 
the French rendezvous in Canada, the latter almost invariably used bullets 
which contained more than half silver. These remarkable missiles became 
the wonder of the whites, and the source from whence they were obtained 
was a mystery. To this day the secret has not been learned, but how near 
it once came to being known is told by an old resident of Berlin. — Editor. 

EFORE the white men settled any part of Maine or 
New Hampshire, there was a very powerful tribe 
of Indians called Penobscots. Their sachem or 
chief lived on what is now known as Oldtown 
Island, which is about twelve miles above Bangor, on the 
Penobscot river. They were in possession of all the coun- 
try watered by the Penobscot, Kennebec and Androscoggin 
rivers. There was also another tribe called the St. Francis, 
living in Canada, and, if tradition saith truly, these two 
tribes were very friendly, often intermarrying. Their great 
thoroughfare was the Androscoggin River, and their camp- 
ing places all up and down the river were plain to be seen 
by the early settlers, and whenever possible these camping 
places were located on islands, and often the curiosity seeker 
would find many things to richly reward his search, perhaps 
not very valuable as far as dollars and cents are concerned, 
but valuable as relics, such as arrow-heads, spear-points, 
tomahawks and, quite frequently, bullets. 

These arrow-heads and other things were made of 
jasper, a stone very hard, and wherever these camping 
places were one was almost sure to find many pieces of this 
jasper, evidently chipped from larger pieces. Now it was a 



source of wonder where the Indians obtained this jasper, 
but this was settled by William Sanborn who, some time in 
the year 1859, found what has been locally known as Jasper 
Cave, situated on the east side of Dead River Pond, about 
half way up a high bluff that rises some three or four hun- 
dred feet above the level of the pond. This cave is about 
fourteen feet long, nine feet high and six feet wide. In all 
probability this entire cave was made by the Indians, to 
obtain this jasper for the purpose before mentioned. The 
vein varies in thickness from a few inches to several feet, 
and as there is no other place on either of the three rivers 
mentioned before where this jasper has been found it seems 
certain that this was the place where the red men, with in- 
credible labor, obtained what was to them of far more value 
than silver or gold; so that when it is remembered that 
until they obtained firearms, knives, and other utensils of 
the white men, this hard stone was what they made knives 
and tomahawks of, besides arrow-heads and spear-points, it 
will be readily seen that to them this stone was very 

Some years before this town was organized, Mr. Benja- 
min Russell came through from Newry, Me., on a hunting 
excursion, as far as what is now called Old Goose-Eye 
Mountain, but not meeting with the success anticipated he 
started from that mountain to go back through to Newry, 
and got lost. It was four or five days before he at last 
found where he was, but when he did he came out on Bear 
River, nearly famished with hunger. When wandering 
around, about to descend a very steep place on the side of 
the mountain, and finding his hatchet a hindrance, he threw 
it down the declivity. To his surprise the tool embedded its 
edge in what looked to him a solid rock. Upon reaching 
the place he found that it was stuck in a vein of lead, so 
soft that it could be easily chipped. He stopped to cut out 
three or four pounds of the ore and, putting it into his 
pack, resumed his journey, thinking it would be an easy 
matter to find the isolated spot again. He did succeed in 


finding his way out of the wilderness, and soon after he 
sent some of the ore to Boston to be assayed. It was 
found to contain more than sixty per cent of silver. It was 
now evident where the Indians had found their ore for their 
"silver bullets." Elated over his accidental discovery, Mr. 
Russell started to find the place again, but after days of 
anxious search he failed to find any sign which revealed the 
lost mine. This search he repeated from time to time, but 
he was never able to find the place, and to this day it 
remains undiscovered. Without a shadow of doubt, some- 
where between Old Goose-Eye and Newry lies a mine which 
would be a fortune to him who should find it. 

There is an ancient story of a white man and an Indian 
who were at one time hunting on this river, somewhere 
near what is now Berlin Falls, and, as they got out of 
bullets, the Indian said, "me get um lead, but white man 
no follow Indian, white man stay here sure." After some 
twelve hours, the Indian returned with plenty of lead, but 
would not tell the white man where it was to be found. In 
all probability this Indian and others knew of this ore 
before they ever obtained firearms of the white men. 
Thus is accounted for the numerous places where this ore 
had been chopped out, as seen by Mr. Russell. Ore in its 
natural state cannot be chopped out as this was, for it is too 
hard, but after it has been melted it can be easily cut. 
Now in all probability this ore had been melted either by 
volcanic action or by the lightning, so that this vein had run 
out, and according to Mr. Russell's report, there was quite 
an area covered with this melted ore, which proved to be, 
by actual test, more than half silver. 

So this old tradition is given for what it is worth, but 
it seems very improbable that Mr. Russell should spend 
years of his life searching to again find the place where he 
obtained this valuable ore, if there were none. There are 
many men who have hunted more or less to find this mine, 
but as yet it has not been discovered, and if it ever is, it is 
more than probable that it will be by accident. 

Buburn bp tye Hake 

By A Staff Contributor 

NVIRONED by hills on three sides, and looking 
out upon the world through the Indian's "Eyes of 
the Sky," beautiful Lake Massabesic, lies the 
pretty town of Auburn, in Rockingham County. 
If banded by iron rails, the steam horse goes past far 
enough removed to leave the little hamlet undisturbed by 
its smoke and clatter. Within an hour's drive of the city 
of Manchester, it rests by its wooded slopes, green fields 
and glimmering waters, contented if left alone. 

About one hundred years after the landing of the 
Puritans, or in 1717, we first find the name of Chester, 
in New Hampshire, and soon after the designation of West 
Chester appears. The latter term was applied to that por- 
tion of the mother town since denominated by that poetical 
name Auburn, Oliver Goldsmith's "sweetest village of the 
plain." Auburn was also early known as "Long Meadow," 
and it was incorporated into a separate township by the 
legislature of New Hampshire, June 25, 1845. The popu- 
lation in 1900 was 682. 

The nationalities of those who made a settlement in the 
primeval forests on the shores of Lake Massabesic were 
English, Scotch and Irish. In blending these races, after 
three generations, scarcely a vestige remains of the general 
characteristics which marked so strongly either of the races, 
and in language, manners and customs were merged into 
the English-Americans. 

The patriotism and love of country of the early set- 
tlers cannot be doubted. They helped the mother country 
in the early French and Indian wars, which wrested from 




the former their claim to this part of North America. In 
the War of the American Revolution they took an active 

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The early settlers brought with them the spinning 
wheel, and the cultivation of flax, trom which linen was 
made, became an important industry among the men, while 
the housewives spun the thread and wove cloth, the surplus 



which was not needed in home consumption finding a 
ready sale in Boston. Scotland's loved poet most aptly ex- 
presses the sweet contentment of the lives of these people 
in his immortal lines to 


O leeze me on my spinning wheel, 
O leeze me on the rock and reel ; 
Frae tap to tae that clieds me bien, 
And haps me fiel and warm at e'en. 
I'll set me down and sing and spin, 
While laigh descends the simmer sun, 
Bless wi' content, and milk and meal — 
O leeze me on my spinning wheel." 



One of the first settlers in Auburn was William Gra- 
ham, who was born in Scotland, in 17 12, and who came here 
in 1733, making his clearing about one mile east of the 
shore of Lake Massabesic, and near the site of the present 



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Methodist church. From the writings of this sturdy 
pioneer we learn that, at the beginning of the eighteenth 
century, one James Horner came from Ireland, with his 
two sisters, to make a settlement on the land to become 
known later as the " Deacon Currier farm." Horner's 



landed interest seems to have extended beyond this, how- 
ever, as it is estimated that he owned at one time a thou- 
sand acres on the banks of the brook running into the lake, 

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where the village is now located. He was a carpenter and 
millwright by trade, and he built the first saw-mill anywhere 
in this vicinity about 1720, unless tradition is more partial 
to him than truthful. He built the first house in town. 



Another early comer was John Calef, a clothier from 
Newbury, Mass., one of the grantees of Chester, who took 
up land here to offset a deficiency in his grant in the main 
territory of " Old Chester." He is believed to have been a 

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descendant of the celebrated Robert Calef, a merchant in 
Boston, who opposed the witchcraft delusion in 1692. Two 
of his sons, James and Robert, lived a short distance above 
the present village, on the homestead of the late George G. 



Griffin. They built a dam across the stream, erected a 
a saw-mill about 1741, and soon after a fulling mill, where 
they dressed cloth for many years. This mill was noted 
as the only one of its kind 
between here and Can- 
ada, cloth being brought 
"here sometimes over two 
hundred miles to be 
dressed. Soon after build- 
ing their fulling mill they 
erected for their dwell- 
ing, a small, one-story 
bouse which is still stand- 

Owing to a dispute, 
carried into court, in re- 
gard to the right of 
flowage, the Calefs lost 
their mill property 
which passed into the 
possession of the Salem 
Iron Company of Massa- 
chusetts. Nathan Grif- 
fin, of Weare, bought 
some of the company's land in 1810, and lived in the Calef 
house until his death in 1867. His wife, who was Sally 
Evans of Springfield, N. H., died seven years later. This 
house thus became the old home of the Griffin family, and 
it was here Sebastian S. Griffin, the historian and anti- 
quarian of the town, to whom the writer is indebted for 
many facts in this article, was born. Here was born and 
lived George G., the second son of Nathan, and his chil- 
dren, until he built the handsome set of buildings a little 
east of the site of the old house, and commanding a fine 
view of the valley, in 1876, where his widow, her son, John 
P., and family now live. 





The old Calef dam disappeared long since, while 
nothing of the old mill, except the mud-sills, remains to 
remind us of the activities of these days, when young and 
energetic men were entering upon the scene to open up a 

new country, with equally 
energetic young women, 
who were helpmeets in 
those family circles about 
which cluster so much 
that is inspiring and 
helpful. They, too, have 
gone, and their children 
have taken their places. 
A generation of pines 
and maples sprang up 
where the old mill stood 
and these have gone the 
wav of earth. 

The site of the 
Horner mill, the first 
built anywhere in this 
vicinity, if tradition is to 
be accepted, was bought 
by Thomas Shirley, the 
grandfather of Byron 
Shirley of Andover, a noted politician in his day. Mr. 
Shirley built here a grist-mill in 1825, but this was burned 
almost before it was completed. It is worthy of mention, 
perhaps, that no fire has occurred since that time within 
a mile circle. May the historian of fourscore years hence 
be able to repeat this fact. 

Mr. Shirley then sold his interest to Joseph Blanchard, 
a man of prominence in affairs, and who had married a 
daughter of Robert Calef. Mr. Blanchard, in connection 
with Mr. Calef, revived the manufacture of cloth, which he 
continued until the introduction of cotton goods ruined his 
industry. The mill was then used for a blacksmith shop, 



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and later was converted into a nail manufactory, where all 
kinds of nails were forged by hand. This privilege was 
bought in 1835 by Jay T. and Flagg T. Underhill, brothers, 
who began here the manufacture of edge tools, this being 

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the most extensive manufactory of the kind in New Hamp- 
shire at that time. This business was carried on here by 
different firms until 1865, when it was discontinued. 

This privilege, with its mill, is now the property of 
Willard H. Griffin, son of George G. Griffin, already men- 


tioned. Mr. Griffin also owns and operates the mill near 
the station of the Concord & Portsmouth branch of the 
Boston & Maine Railroad. Auburn is well favored with 
water power, and less than half a century ago no less than 
seven mills were in operation, during the spring months 
running day and night. Then hills and valleys were cov- 
ered largely with heavy timber, which has since disappeared, 
and been replaced by a young growth. It is perhaps only 
right to say that one mill with its modern appliances is 
capable of sawing more lumber than the seven combined, 
with their old-fashioned, slow-moving devices. Such is one 
of the ear-marks of progress. 

Mr. Griffin, as well as looking after his mill interests, 
deals in lumber to a considerable extent, and takes an 
active part in town affairs, being at the present time its 
treasurer. He is also, in association with Alfred D. Emery 
and Daniel H. Webster, a trustee of the Griffin Library 
and Museum. He married Miss Frances A., daughter of 
Charles N. and Louisa (Simonds) Plumer, of Alexandria, 
N. H. She has taught school, and been a member of the 
board of education for twelve years. She is the efficient 
librarian of the Griffin Library. Their beautiful home 
stands near the site of the Currier homestead, before 

Among those who worked for Joseph Blanchard in the 
old fulling mill on the present Griffin site, and afterwards 
succeeding him in its ownership, were William and John 
Folsom, their mother being the second wife of Mr. Blan- 
chard. They carried on the business until 1805, when the 
last-named, in association with Richard Melvin, built fifteen 
miles of the Londonderry turnpike, which included the 
construction of the historic " Deer Neck bridge," spanning 
the strait between the two bays of the lake. The following 
year he opened a tavern on the turnpike, which became 
noted in those days as " Folsom's Tavern." There was a 
great amount of travel over the new highway, until the 
building of the railroad up the Merrimack valley in 1842, 



and often the house was filled to overflowing. Among the 

distinguished g 

uests who' stopped here was the great orator 



and statesman, Daniel Webster, 
fields, reaching down to 
to the shore of the beau- 
tiful lake, with a distant 
view of hills and moun- 
tains, it was a scene to 
charm the most critical 
eye. The old tavern dis- 
appeared several years 
since, and on its site 
stands a modern farm- 
house. A little higher 
on the hillside, command- 
ing a yet wider view of 
the surrounding country, 
Manchester's banker 
and financier, Mr. Wal- 
ter M. Parker, has built 
a beautiful summer resi- 
dence and arranged at- 
tractive grounds. No 
happier choice could 
have been made than this noble situation, with its historic 
associations and magnificent scenery, where a busy man 
could seek rest and escape from the exacting cares of an 
earnest life. So, once more, in accordance with the changes 
wrought by the passing years, the picturesque hillsides, 
overlooking the west bay, studded with islands, the largest 
and most conspicuous of which is Brown's Island, reflect 
the activities of man's handiwork. 

A short distance below this sightly residence is the home 
of one of Auburn's oldest and leading citizens, Mr. Andrew 
F. Fox. The Fox homestead was cleared at the opening of 
the turnpike, and the house built by a Mr. Towle. This 
was bought by the father of Andrew F. seventy-eight years 




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ago last fall, when he was two years old. The building has 
since been enlarged and improved until it is now a fine farm- 
house, over-hung by two stately elms that have stood on 
duty for nearly fourscore years. Mr. Fox has served his 
town in many official 
capacities, and continu- 
ously ever since he came 
to his majority. He was 
elected a selectman when 
he was twenty-three, and 
was chosen representa- 
tive when he was twenty- 
seven. He is still hale 
and hearty, and retains 
his interest in the afTai.s 
of the day, 

Another ol d-t i me 
hostelry in Auburn, de- 
serving mention, was the 
"Shirley Mansion," an 
imposing structureforits 
day. Its large front, two 
stories in height, exten- 
sion, numerous winde'ws 
of seven-by-nine glass, 

great chimneys and open fireplaces, huge kitchen and out- 
buildings, including horse sheds, had the appearance of an 
old French chateau. These walls, which echoed to many 
scenes of conviviality and boisterous life, were torn down in 
1848, and a new set of buildings erected by John S. Brown, 
a few feet north of the old site. 

Simon Brown, a brother, was for several years edi- 
to of the New England Farmer, and at one time speaker 
of the Massachusetts House of Representatives. A 
nephew, William Graham Brown, still lives in town, his 
cottage standing a short distance east of the village. He 
is a direct descendant of William Graham, already men- 

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tioned as one of the pioneers of Auburn. Mr. Brown 
served his country in the First New Hampshire Heavy 
Artillery, Company K. He enlisted a second time, and 

was appointed corporal, 
but gave this up to play 
in the band. He has 
been a leading citizen, 
serving on the board of 
selectmen and school 
committee; was census 
taker in 1880, and repre- 
sented the town in the 
legislature in 1895-96. 
He married, first, Mary 
A. Neal, a most estima- 
ble woman ; second, Miss 
Ella F. Hanson, a daugh- 
ter of Wyman O. and 
Mary A. (Martin) Han- 
son. Mrs.. Brown was 
educated in the schools 
of Manchester, taught 
school several years be- 
fore her marriage, and 
since has served on the board of education eleven years, 
where she is at the present time a valuable member. 

About one mile east of the village, and situated upon 
one of the most sightly eminences in town, commanding a 
wide view of the lake as well as the surrounding country, 
is the old homestead founded by one of the first settlers, 
James Underhill. This estate eventually passed into pos- 
session of Lyman Eaton, who married Miss Lucy Brown 
of Wellfleet, Mass. Here the worthy couple reared their 
family of children, who have proved a blessing to the old 
home. The oldest of these, Benjamin Eaton, a prominent 
citizen, who served in the Civil War, and has held many 
positions of usefulness in local affairs, lives in his modern 

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farmhouse near the site of the old home. Besides doing: 
considerable in the mill and lumber business, he has culti- 
vated his farm, paying some attention to raising peaches, 
in which line of fruit he 
has been very success- 
ful. He married Miss 
Sarah Adaline Follans- 
bee, of South Hampton, 
who taught school for 
several years. They 
have had four children, 
three of whom are liv- 

This is the birth- 
place of a son of Auburn 
who has gained an honor- 
able position in another 
town, a younger brother 
of the above, Frank 
Eaton, M. D., who was 
a graduate of Dartmouth 

Medical College, class of , , , 

1876, having studied 

medicine with the late Dr. Canney, who was at one time an 
Auburn physician. He settled in Weare, N. H., immedi- 
ately upon receiving his diploma, and has remained in that 
town ever since, having acquired an extensive country 
practice. He married, first, Miss M. Luella Knowlton, 
and second, Mrs. Lizzie L. (Hoyt) Locke. Dr. Eaton has 
represented the town in the legislature, besides holding 
other positions in public affairs, and enjoys the confidence 
and respect of a wide circle of friends. 

The other surviving children are Arthur Eaton, who 
owns a farm in Weare ; Achsah, who married Oliver B. 
Elliott, and lives in Manchester, and Lucie E., who mar- 
ried Frank Clough, of Weare, her mother finding a home 
with her. 



One of the finest residences in town is the home of 
Simon G. Prescott and his son, Frank H., who, either in 
partnership or separately, have kept the village store and 

postoffice for many years, 
the latter at the present 
time being the sole pro- 
prietor. The former has 
represented his town in 
the legislature, and has 
long been a leading citi- 
zen. The compiler is 
indebted to the latter 
for the photographic 
views that accompany 
this article. Mr. Pres- 
cott has one of the larg- 
est collections of first- 
class photographs to be 
found in a country town, 
and he has done much 
toward advertising in 
this way the picturesque 
features of the surround 
ing country. 

Another of the pioneers, who has descendants living 
here to-day, was John Orr. With Allen Templeton, John 
McKinley, Robert Craige and others he came into this 
vicinity in 1736 to settle about forty rods from the lake 
shore. The Orr family was believed to have been con- 
nected with the royal line of Stuarts. Among his descend- 
ants are the Pattens and Hails, a family group of the grand- 
children by the latter name being given. Three of these 
grandsons, Albert L., Melvin and Lester, live in town. 
The latter owns the beautiful summer boarding house stand- 
ing upon Mount Prospect, which he has re-named Pine 
Bluff. This site commands one of the finest views in 
Auburn, from whence the observer not only looks out upon 




that gem of waters, Lake Massabesic, with its coves, inlets, 
bays and islands, but in the distance rises a grand panorama 
of mountain scenery not easily to be matched in this state. 
Mr. Hall and his genial 
wife during the summer 
season entertain as many 
as fifty guests at a time, 
and many are turned 
away who cannot be ac- 
commodated. With its 
beautiful grove of pines 
and its well-kept grounds, 
there is no more desir- 
able spot for the vaca- 
tionist than this quiet 
retreat with its happy 

Nearby is another 
of Auburn's attractive 
summer homes, the Lake 
Shore Farm, kept by 
George M. Hunkins. 

Following along the 
road that winds up the 
hill in the direction of Long Meadow district, the home of 
another of Auburn's substantial citizens, Alfred D. Emery, 
is passed. Mr. Emery has been judge of the police court 
for ten years, selectman for eleven years, and treasurer for 
eight years, besides holding other offices of trust and activ- 
ity. He is not a native of the to\vn } having been born in 
Maiden, Mass., in 1845. He married Miss Caroline F. Wood, 
of Peabody, Mass. They have been blessed with six chil- 
dren, all of whom have obtained their education and begun 
life for themselves with flattering prospects. Only one, 
Thomas D., remains in town, and lives at The Elm, where, 
besides performing the duties of rural free delivery, he 
and Mrs. Emery are the dispensers of comfort and pleas- 


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ure to a goodly number of ^summer boarders at their 
fine old home. Near the postoffice, church, and within 
sight and sound of the lake, their house is one of many 

quiet attractions. In 
front, Sebago Brook 
enters the lake and, 
spreading out amid the 
reeds and willows, loses 
its identity and becomes 
a part of the main body 
of "untroubled waters." 
Near the east bay of 
Lake Massabesic settled 
William Leach, in 1738. 
Captain Leach served in 
the Continental Army, 
and was a sergeant in 
Capt. Joseph Dearborn's 
Company in the cam- 
paign against Canada. 
The canine instinct is 
aptly illustrated in the 
following story told of a 
dog belonging to Cap- 
tain Leach. In a fight with a rattlesnake, which were very 
plenty in this locality in those days, the dog, though victor, 
was severely bitten by the snake. Immediately the wounded 
animal bounded away to a plot of lowland, to bury himself 
in the mud until only the tip of his nose was to be seen. 
Here he remained until hunger compelled him to leave his 
retreat. As soon as he had eaten he returned to his hiding 
place, this time followed by some of the family, and under- 
standing his purpose he was fed here until at last he seemed 
to - feel that the poison had been taken out of his body, 
when he resumed the even tenor of his life, living several 
years after this incident, a greater favorite than ever. 

Following on past the Leach place, climbing the hill 



and coming to a sharp curve in the road is an old 
which marks the homestead of another old settler 
descendants are living, Deacon Robert Patten, who 



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here in 1741. From this home have sprung some of the 
best and most energetic citizens of our state and other 
states in the Union. Many of the Pattens who have 
become useful citizens from this town and Candia were 



descendants of this family. The old house was razed to 
the ground nearly three-fourths of a century ago. A story 
is told illustrating the native wit and keen insight of the 


pioneer. A short distance beyond the place is that dismal 
opening into the earth known as the "Devil's Den," and 
among others who sought the credited abode of his satanic 
majesty, out of curiosity either for the place or its occupant, 



came two Methodist ministers. Upon coming to the Pat- 
ten homestead, and seeing the old gentleman sitting on his 
porch, his chin resting on his cane, one of them asked how 
much farther they would have to go to reach their destina- 



tion. Starting up from his revery the old man replied: 
"It's anly a wee bit o' space beyont." Thinking to quiz 
the other the clergyman inquired if he thought it likely they 
would find his satanic majesty at home then, and if not 
when he would be the most pleased to receive callers. Fix- 
ing his small but piercing eyes, overhung by shaggy brows, 
on the inquirer, *Mr. Patten remarked that if the devil was 
at home "a wee bit o' buird wouldst fly out to greet 'em." 
As to any particular time to receive callers, the cave-dweller 
was always glad to welcome visitors, day or night. 

Laughing at the reply, the ministers resumed their 
journey. Coming within sight of the cave, they hitched 
their horses and ascended the rough pathway leading to 
the dark retreat. They had nearly reached the mouth of the 
cave when, to their surprise, a small bird came out of the 
place and whirled about their heads in swift flight. The 
words of Mr. Patten coming quickly back to them, the twain, 
believing the devil was really within waiting for them, 



turned about and fled with swift steps down the declivity. 
It is said one of them fainted, but be that as it may, the 
rumble of carriage wheels was soon heard along the high- 

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way, unbroken until the sound had died away in the dis- 
tance. There is no evidence to show that either of these 
frightened good men ever returned for a second visit. 
Though it may destroy Mr. Patten's reputation as a prophet, 



he had known for several years a bird had been in the habit 
of building its n*st near the m nith of th^ cave. Upon the 
appearance of visitors the frightened bird was sure to leave 

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its nest and fly forth over the heads of the new-comers. 

About forty rods beyond the " Devil's Den," now the 
scene of a growth of pines and chestnuts, some of the 
former having reached a girth of six feet* is the ruined cel- 
lar of another of the early settlers of Auburn, Master 



George Russell, an eccentric but worthy character in his 
day. He was of Sotch-Irish parentage, enlisted in the 
British army, was with General Gage upon that memorable 
attack upon Concord and Lexington, deserted the English 

and afterwards did good service in the cause of the colo- 
nists. He married Martha McNiel of Londonderry. They 
had three children : John, who settled in New Boston ; 
Dawson, who lived in Londonderry, and Mary, who married 
and went to Galena, 111. As his title would indicate, Mr. 
Russell was a teacher, when schoolmasters were venerated 
almost as much as ministers. In old age Mr. Russell sold 
his place to Nathan Plummer, and went to live with his son 
John. Among the anecdotes told of this quaint, but honest, 
man was that of his practice to flog all of his pupils the 


last day of school, so they would remember him over until 
the next term. 

Nathan Plummer, who bought the Russell place, was 


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another Revolutionary patriot, who served his country 
seven years, being among those under Washington during 
that memorable winter at Valley Forge, when the fortunes 
of the colonists were at ebb tide. Mr. Plummer lived upon 
the Russell homestead until his death, and he sleeps in an 
honored grave in what is known as the Long Meadow 




Nathan Plummer, a son of the above, studied medicine 
with Dr. Robert Bartley, Londonderry, and after practicing 
in that town a short time came to Long Meadow in 1818. 
He lived in the Russell 


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house a few years, and 
then built him a house 
a short distance above 
the present Congrega- 
tional church. This 
house was burned April 
3, 1865, when he bought 
a farm on the road from 
the village to "Bunker 
Hill," and moved there 
with his family, living 
there until his death, 
September 23, 1871, at 
the age of eighty-four 
years. He was a sturdy, 
rugged man, who prac- 
ticed medicinein Auburn 
and vicinity for more 
than fifty years, loved 
and respected by a wide 
circle of friends. He rests in the cemetery at Long Meadow. 
Among the eleven children in the family of Dr. Plum- 
mer, only one, Albert, followed the profession of his 
father, and he is now a practicing physician in Hamilton, 
Minn. Edwin lives upon the home place, a well-to-do 
farmer. He served a little over three years in the Civil 
War, and was in ten pitched battles, among them the first 
and second battles of Bull Run and the fight at Fredericks- 
burg. He was wounded at Williamsburg, and again by a 
piece of shell at Gettysburg. Returning to his home in 
1864,' he soon after married Miss Frances Webster, a 
daughter of Capt. Amos Webster, and a descendant of Major 
John Webster, a Revolutionary veteran. He has repre 





sented his town in the legislature two terms, and has served 
as selectman several terms. His wife died a few years since. 

Another prominent citizen of this retired neighbor- 
hood, and living in pleas- 
a n t comradeship with 
Mr. Plummer, is Wells 
C. Underhill. Like all 
of the Underhills of 
Auburn and Chester, he 
is a descendant of Samp- 
son Underhill, a native 
of England, who came 
to Ipswich, Mass., about 
1625, to take up the 
trade of clothier there 
the following year. He 
removed to Chester a 
few years later, living 
until 1735. Wells C, 
the son of John and 
Molly (Chase) Underhill, 
was born October 11, 
1836, and lives upon the 
old homestead. He mar- 
ried Miss Martha Taylor, Kennebunk, Me., and they have 
two children, Edwin T., who lives at home, and Helen, a 
stenographer with the Rockingham Light and Power Com- 
pany of Portsmouth. While avoiding rather than seeking 
political preferment, Mr. Underhill was county commis- 
sioner from 1879 t0 J 885; represented his town in the legis- 
lature two years; has served several terms as selectman, 
and was treasurer and moderator from 1885 to 1895. He is 
one of the best-informed men in town regarding local his- 
tory, and his advice and counsel is often sought by those in 
charge af town affairs. 

Another physician noted in Auburn is Dr. James F. 
Brown, the son of James and Elizabeth (Langford) Brown, 

* ... 

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who was born in that part of the town known as "The 
Neck," September 6, 1838. He studied medicine with 
Professor Crosby of Dartmouth, and settled in Chester in 

October, 1864. After 
twenty years of practice 
there and in his native 
town, he removed t o 
Manchester in 1884,' 
where he is still in prac- 
tice, enjoying a wide pat- 
ronage and reputation 
for skill. He married, 
first, Miss Abbie Scrib- 
ner of Raymond, who 
died February 7, 1903; 
and, second, Mrs. Mary 
A. Man in, of Orange, Vt. 
He has a son, James S., 
who is in active practice 
with his father in Man- 
chester, having won for 
himself an honored posi- 
tion in his profession. 
There are many 

fc&jgiMg^J^. aW^id 


other families deserving of mention, and numerous objects 
of interest that must be overlooked if not forgotten. With 
its schools, churches, industries and societies, in a sketch 
like this it is impossible to mention with a degree of credit 
that they deserve all in town who have filled, or are filling, 
honorable places in its history. In the midst of the scene 
of early activity in the settlement of Auburn stands the 
house that belonged to a time-honored citizen, John Ray, 
now owned by one outside of the family line. Nearby is 
the noble old farmhouse of the late Deacon Grant, now 
owned by his son Irving. Removed from the scenes of 
the center of the town, this has become a pleasant retreat 
for many summer visitors, seeking for the quiet of such a 



home. In this neighborhood are several other well-to-do 
farmers, apparently contented and happy. This spirit is 

typical of the town's people everywhere. In this respect 
it is fortunate. No great tragedy has ever overshad- 
owed it. 



At an early stage in its settlement a movement was 
made to build a school, and we find as early as 1745 one of 
the first three houses of this kind erected in "Old Chester" 

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was located in what is now Auburn, and it is reasonable to 
suppose that the first of this trio to be completed belonged 
to the latter town. This was the first schoolhouse anywhere 
in this vicinity, and it stood near where is now the home 



of Charles H. Grant. If built of hewn timber, with all the 
rudeness of pioneer hands, it stood for one of the noblest 
traits of humanity, — education. About 1 780 another school- 


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house was built near the shore of the lake, and half a 
mile southeast of the village. Mr. S. S. Griffin, in speak- 
ing of this house, said: "It was sixteen feet square, seven 
feet posts, the frame of oak and chestnut; all the frame 


was hewn, even the studs and braces, while the nails used 
were of wrought iron, and probably hammered out by 

In 1827 a third house was built above Blanchard's, now 
Griffin's, mill. This was finally taken down, and the lum- 
ber used toward building a dwelling house. In 1857 a new 
house was built on this site, which was moved away thirty 
years after. Near by stands to-day the little village school- 
house, where the rudimentary principles of an education 
are given the young. Close by this stands yet another 
building of importance and attraction, modest in its appear- 
ance, but speaking volumes in more senses than one for its 
founder. This is the Grifhn Public Library and Museum. 
It contains, besides several hundred books and pamph- 
lets, the collection of Indian relics and curiosities accumu- 
lated by the antiquarian and historian, Sebastian S. Griffin, 
of whom mention has been mide. If seld?m appreciated 
by their associates, persons of his temperament accom- 
plish a work for their native place which in the flight of 
the years proves of inestimable value. This was the case 
with Mr. Griffin, who, during a long life, collected a large 
number of Indian relics and other curios. These he gave 
to the town upon the provision that they should be given 
suitable care. 

No sketch of Auburn would be complete without a 
description of that source of its varied charms of scenery, 
river, valley, hillside, rock and cavern, each and all en- 
hanced by the added beauty of one of the most beautiful 
sheets of water in the Granite State. The red man, who 
was seldom at fault in appreciating the attractions of a 
place, and of applying a fitting term both from a practical 
and picturesque view named it Massabesic, " Place of much 
water." From a more poetical idea he designated it 
7sisehou-Ki{Oiis y that is, "Eyes of the Sky." One of its 
later admirers* has sweetly said: 

•Clara B. Heath. 



|h-rt« rW t fe.rt. 

X V 




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"Two broad blue bays, that stretch out east and west, 

Dotted with fairy isles of living green ; 
And midway where the waters seem to rest 

In narrow bed, two curving shores between, 
A time-worn bridge that long has stood the test 
■ .Of stormy winds and restless tides is seen." 

The shape of this beautiful lake has not been inaptly 
compared to a pair of spectacles. Possibly it was this form 
which suggested to the Indian the more fanciful name. 
These two bodies, if joined end to end, would extend about 
seven miles, with a breadth of one mile. The eastern 
division, with nearly one-half of the other, is within the 
limitations of Auburn. At low water, miles of white- 
sanded beach wind around this "buckler of silver," broken 
here and there with rocky points jutting out into the water. 
The surface is dotted with rocky isles, fit haunts for wild 
birds, and islands teeming with growth and fringed with 
reeds and lilies. It is easy to picture to the mind's eye, 
even of to-day, something of the primeval glory attached 
to these shores, with " wooded slopes running down to the 
water's edge, luxuriant vines clustering on fine old trees, 
and the scent of wild grapes perfuming the autumn groves. 
The bear found here his favorite blueberry in sheltered 
dells ; wild geese rested here in their long flight hither and 
yon, while great flocks of ducks found free ports of entry 
in many a safe retreat. Deer brow r sed in the surrounding 
forests ; the lordly loon trumpeted his defiance in the lee of 
his chosen islands, or disappeared with lightning celerity at 
the crack of the hunter's firearm. Acres of flooded marshes 
furnished feeding grounds for pickerel or perch. Alewives 
crowded in shoals up the Cohas in the season, and suckers 
abounded when winter snows moved off." 

This lake is estimated to drain a territory of forty 
square miles, and to have a circumference of twenty-nine 
miles. As the red men before them had been drawn hither, 
so the first white settlers found it their magnet, and some 
of the earliest and strongest of the honest yeomanry of the 


pioneer days of New Hampshire hewed their homes out of 
the wilderness surrounding its solitary glory. Many of its 
natural attractions, however, must be left for another 

A few years since, the lake became a popular resort 
for summer visitors, and great crowds of people flocked to 
its hotels and boarding houses; steamers plied upon the 
water, and the street cars carried vast numbers to and fro 
between its lively scenes and the city of Manchester. 
Neat cottages lined the shores, and many found here a 
short respite from the bustle and worry of business life. 
But "all things change and we change with them." Man- 
chester obtains its supply of water from this spring-fed 
fountain of waters, and the city began to look zealously 
after its interests. Working silently but subtly, it bought 
up rod after rod of the shore line, until it is estimated that 
it owns over seventy-five per cent of the adjoining land. 
A large number of the cottages have been removed and 
others are destined to follow. Two of the largest hotels 
have been burned, and the others have been closed. The 
steamer no longer wakes the solitude with its hoarse 
whistle and the small boat has vanished from the silvery 
current that loved it so well. Over all a spirit of restful- 
ness has fallen, and what the outcome will be no prophet 
has arisen to foretell. Fortunately the natural attractions 
of Auburn have not suffered by this for those who seek 
quiet and sweet peacefulness, where sunshine and the 
benign influence of country life impart new spirit to the 
summer guest, entertained with the pleasing hospitality of 
farm life. And so, while the spell of restfulness continues 
to deepen, year by year increasing numbers come and go, 
satisfied to have found peace, sweet contentment, and that 
which is dearer than all else, giving zest to inspiration for 
work, — health. 

<3Ef)e /jteountam ^atb 

By Edxa Dean Proctor 

Among the poets of the Granite State, not one has caught with a 
deeper insight the glory of her hills and valleys, her lakes and rivers, 
than Miss Proctor, and' among her gems of art and nature the follow- 
ing takes high rank. This gifted singer is a native of Henniker, but 
has lived much of her life in Brooklyn, N. Y. She has traveled in 
foreign countries extensively, but this has not taken from her that 
love for native land which abounds in the heart of every true poet. — 

O the Mountain Maid, New Hampshire! 

Her steps are light and free, 
Whether she treads the lofty heights 

Or follows the brooks to the sea! 
Her eyes are clear as the skies that hang 

Over her hills of snow, 
And her hair is dark as the densest shade 

That falls where the fir-trees grow— 
The fir-trees, slender and somber, 

That climb from the vales below. 

Sweet is her voice as the robin's, 

In a lull of the wind of March, 
Wooing the shy arbutus 

At the roots of the buddng larch; 
And rich as the ravishing echoes 

On still Franconia's Lake, 
When the boatman winds his magic horn, 

And the tongues of the wood awake, 
While the huge Stone Face forgets to frown 

And the hare peeps out of the brake. 

The blasts of dreary December 

But brighten the bloom on her cheek, 
And the snows rear her statelier temples 

Than to goddess were built by the Greek. 
She welcomes the fervid summer, 

And flies to the sounding shore 
Where bleak Boar's Head looks seaward, 

Set in the billows' roar, 
And dreams of her sailors and fishers 

Till cool days come once more. 

' THE MOUNTAIN MAID 169 " ^ « 

Then how fair is the Maiden, 

Crowned with the scarlet leaves, 
And wrapped in the tender, misty veil 

That Indian Summer weaves! 
While the aster blue, and the golden-rod, 

And immortelles, clustering sweet, 
From Canada down to the sea have spread 

A carpet for her feet; 
And the faint witch-hazel buds unfold, 

Her latest smile to greet. 

She loves the song of the reapers, 

The ring of the woodman's steel, 
The whirr of the glancing shuttle, 

The rush of the tireless wheel. 
But, if war befalls, her sons she calls 

From mill and forge and lea, 
And bids them uphold her banner 

Till the land from strife is free; 
And she hews her oaks into vengeful ships 

That sweep the foe from the sea. 

O the Mountain Maid, New Hampshire! 

For beauty and wit and will 
I'll mate her to-day with the fairest 

That rules over plain and hill! 
New York is a princess in purple, 

By the gems of her cities crowned; 
Illinois with the garland of Ceres 

Her tresses of gold has bound- 
Queen of the limitless prairies, 

Whose great sheaves heap the ground; 

And out by the far Pacific, 

Their gay young sisters say, 
Ours are the mines of the Indies 

And the treasures of broad Cathay ' ' ; 
And the dames of the South walk proudly, 

Where the fig and the orange fall, 
And, hid in the high magnolias, 

The mocking thrushes call; 
But the Mountain Maid, New Hampshire, 

Is the rarest of them all! 


Granite J>tate jflBaga^ne 

Vol. I. JUNE, 1906. No. 6. 

Cfce Merrimack frttber 

The Stone Age 

By George Waldo Browne 
( Concluded from the May number) 

HE artisan of the Stone Age displayed great inge- 
nuity in the manner in which he performed his 
tasks of making those implements needed by him. 
Usually the material from which he obtained his object was 
selected with care in regard to its fitness for his purpose. The 
hammer, possibly the first tool he designed, was made from 
a stone not only of a desired shape but of a finer and harder 
texture than those he would secure to be beaten and pol- 
ished to answer other ends. The hammer made to his liking, 
he then fastened a handle to it by means of a narrow strip of 
deer thong or a small, tough withe, and went on with his 
work, evolving one after another of those utensils meeting 
his needs, with the patience and stoicism of his race. 


There were several varieties of implements which 
might be considered under this head, and among them 
were the scrapers, flakers, celts and fieshers. The most 
simple of these was the flaker, which was often made by a 
single blow from a pebble against a rock inclined to split 
apart. The piece of stone thus obtained, with usually more 
or less "finishing," became a handy tool for various pur- 



poses. It was, in fact, a rude sort of a knife, and so far as 
it was capable of being used it took the place of the other. 
A great many knives have been found chipped mostly on 
one edge until the desired quality of an instrument to cut 
was secured. These instruments were not often straight 
along the edge line, but slightly curved from one end to 
the other. The red men had another knife somewhat re- 
sembling the "chopping knife" of our own mothers. 
These seem to have been made mostly by a rude grinding 
or scraping against a harder surface. This was no doubt a 
woman's tool. Sometimes the knife was hafted, and became 
a very good carving knife for cutting meat and other sub- 
stances found at the primeval feast. 


A writer upon this subject ventures the assertion that 
"The scraper and its brother, the flaked knife, followed 
next after the hammer in the tide of evolution. Whether 
his environment were stone, bone or shell, wherever his- 
toric man has left his traces, these most useful of tools are 
found." The scraper was not only made to separate softer 
substances, but it was more frequently used as a rasp to 
smooth and work into shape the object upon which the 
designer may have been at work. Were it a piece of stone, 
then he used it as a polisher; if a skin that he was prepar- 
ing, it became a rubber to soften and make flexible the 
object, somewhat as we should use a piece of glass to 
smooth wood, horn or bone. It was also "handy with the 
dusky cook in enabling her to remove the meat from the 
bone, and otherwise to assist in preparing the food. One 
face was made flat, while the other was raised, the end 
pointed like an arrow-head. It was sometimes hafted and 
became a handy instrument in removing skins from ani- 
mals, becoming a good separator as well as a tool for cut- 
ting. It was used, too, for the purpose of removing arrow- 
heads from wounds. 



Next to the knife in importance among the sons of the 
Stone Age was the instrument for perforating or drilling. 
There were two kinds of these drills or augers, the most com- 
mon form of which was the pointed piece of rock, which, after 
patient and careful drilling, made a conical perforation in 
the object. Usually these bores were made from opposite 
sides of the stone being drilled, the holes meeting at an 
angle near the center. Sometimes the bore was made 
entirely from one side. 


The celt, from celtis, 3. chisel, was one of the most 
prized tools among the Amerinds, and upon this stone 
instrument the aboriginal craftsman gave his most cunning 
skill and painstaking care. He first rough-hewed the stone 
into something like the shape desired, following which he 
devoted days of patient work to smoothing and polishing 
his favorite tool. It was sometimes made oval shape or 
flat, but usually round, with a sharp blade, formed symetri- 
cally from both sides. Occasionally they were grooved, 
but rarely so. Sometimes a wooden handle carefully fash- 
ioned was perforated at one end, and the stone tool, made 
smaller at that part, was driven into it far enough to 
become firm in its socket There seem to have been many 
uses for this handy tool, such as rubbing down skins, 
smoothing wood, shaping the bow and arrow, and kindred 
uses, besides the legitimate calling of a chisel. In this 
capacity it may have been pushed by the hand, but there is 
evidence to show that it was often used just as our mechanic 
pounds his chisel with vigorous blows from his mallet. It 
has been well said by a writer upon the subject that 
'* Working with no guide but his eye, no tool but a stone 
hammer, and no measure but his hand, one is amazed to see 
how perfect some of these objects have been made." 



Similar to a certain extent, and next in importance 
to the red men was the gouge. These of necessity were 
made of extremely hard stone, and were either grooved or 
ungrooved, with one face flat and the other rounded, some- 
times acutely. They were hollowed out on the flat surface, 
and brought to almost a semi-circle. It is believed that 
these tools were used to a considerable extent in hollowing 
out canoes from trees. 

Allied to the gouge was the adze, the last having a 
helve ingeniously fashioned by two ridges making a raised 
groove for helving. This handy tool had a .sharp edge, the 
blade curved slightly on the sides. 


That student of Indian life, Schoolcraft, very vividly 
pictures a Penacook squaw pounding corn in a mortar placed 
in a position directly under the branch of a tree from which 
a pestle hung suspended by a stout strip of deer thong. 
Here, seated upon the ground, this industrious spouse of a 
red man, while she chants some ditty, possibly a love song, 
performs her task of grinding the golden grain into a fine 
flour by the assistance of the tree, the rebound of the limb 
with each successive blow lifting the primitive crusher to a 
sufficient height to admit of a smart stroke directed by her 
right hand. It is possible the historian partook somewhat 
of the character of a romancer in depicting this scene, but 
the fact remains that it was not improbable. The Amer- 
ican Indian was nothing if not of an inventive turn of 
mind. The Indian woman was a considerable factor in the 
manufacture of the implements of the Stone Age, and it 
may be readily imagined that she made most of those which 
applied to her use. That the men made certain of the 
instruments and weapons needed by them in war and chase 
is obvious, but even in these the cunning hand of woman is 




Pestles have been frequently found in the Merrimack 
Valley, but do not appear to have been made with so much 
diligence as some of the other utensils. They were seldom 
polished, except from long use. Sometimes, after having 
been pecked into fine shape, a hole would be drilled in the 
lower end and a piece of stone of a harder nature inserted, 
fitting so nicely into the perforation that years of use failed 
to loosen it. The mortar was frequently made of hard 
wood, and perhaps as often of stone scooped out to hold 
the grain. The pestle and mortar, if a very primitive mill, 
were important utensils in the simple household of the 

If other objects might be omitted from the catalogue 
of implements used by the sons of the Stone Age, the pipe 
could not be overlooked. Whether a blessing or a curse, it 
is the one legacy which he left his conquerors that is likely 
to remain with the memory of him. He beyond doubt 
looked upon the cloud of tobacco smoke curling lazily 
above his dusky visage as an incense wafted reverently to 
his invisible god. When he smoked, he first invoked the 
divine blessing, in his untutored mind, by sending a whiff 
of the fragrant vapor to the four points of the compass, 
and finished by sending a fifth upward toward the throne of 
the Most High. War between tribes was frequently pro- 
claimed by means of a pipe adorned with red feathers. 
The struggle over treaties of peace and, it may be, alliance 
were sealed in solemn compact by the smoking among the 
contracting parties of the pipe of peace. Seldom, if ever, 
were these compacts broken. For more than one to smoke 
a pipe in succession meant terms of brotherhood and social 

Pipes of various patterns have been found in the 
valley, some of them grotesquely carved with the image of 
some creature, it may have been a raven or a hideous imp 
of unknown species. The raven in the traditions of the 
Algonquin Indians took very much the same position that 



the dove does in the Jewish legends of the days of the 

In his weapons of offense and defense, living as he did 
mainly by the chase, and ever haunted by the grim skeleton 
of war, it was natural the red man should give his best 
specimens of skill as an artisan to the manufacture of those 
weapons needed in his most active periods. 


The bow and arrow afforded the dusky warrior his 
most trusted implement of the chase of game or on the 
war-trail of his enemies. The arrows, though sometimes 
headed with wood or bone, jasper or flint, were usually 
tipped with sharp points of stone chipped into the proper 
shape. In the manufacture of these, a work usually rele- 
gated to the women, he showed considerable skill, though 
it is not certain how he generally performed the task. 
Owing to the number used it must have called for frequent 
hours of patient toil. Evidently such material as could be 
found, often quartz cobbles, was split into thin layers with 
their stone hammers, assisted by stone wedges. A writer 
who has made considerable study of this subject says : 
"Possibly they were heated in pits and split by cooling 
suddenly with water. Partly made implements were often 
buried in considerable quantities. It is supposed that these 
stones were thus softened and rendered more tractable." 
Caches of these finds have been unearthed in several places 
in the Merrimack Valley. The layers of rock, when not 
treated in this manner, were slowly chipped into the de- 
sired shape and thickness by repeated blows from the stone 
hammers of small size. The writer already quoted believes 
that bone or horn was used as a chisel driven in with the 
hammer to break off little flakes from either side. These 
implements were designated as arrow flakers, specimens of 
which have been found. The granite found in New Hamp- 
shire no doubt made excellent material for the arrow and 


spear-head maker. Archaeologists have considered these 
points, whether notched so as to be hafted, which have 
been found so plentifully on the banks of the Merrimack, 
to be arrow tips when under two inches in length, spear 
heads when of greater length, until reaching a size suffi- 
cient for a knife. There is a distinguishing feature about 
the style or manner in which these are made, as well as in 
the difference of material between one section of the 
.country and another. Made, perhaps, more for the chase 
than for war, the Penacooks showed more than common 
skill in the making of arrow-heads, as they did of nearly 
everything else. There were also two styles of arrows 
used even by them. One of these was the war-points, 
which were made to be inserted into the shaft loosely, so 
as to remain in the wound of the victim, and thus were not 
notched or tanged. The arrows of the hunter, on the 
other hand, were carefully inserted into the shaft and 
fastened in place by aid of the tang. These could easily 
be removed from the wounded animal, and the arrow intact 
made to do duty many times over. 


Spear-points were made of hard stone, pecked and 
smoothed by the hammer and chisel until brought to a 
sharp end. It was tanged for hafting, and was attached to 
its handle after the manner of the arrow to its shaft. The 
spear or lance was a handy instrument, and used for vari- 
ous purposes in both war and hunting. Oftentimes the 
maker exercised his skill to a high degree in its making, 
and no doubt looked upon this as a favorite instrument of 
defense or aggression. 

Space forbids me from entering into the detail of 
description of the many and varied articles made by the 
sons of the Stone Age, or even to give a complete list of 
them. Besides those briefly mentioned, the Amerinds of 
the Merrimack made among others, either for ornaments or 


industrial purposes, the plummet or sinker, used in fishing, 
amulets and banner stones worn for personal protection 
from real or imiginary evil, totems to distinguish his family, 
polishers to assist him in the manufacture of other instru- 
ments, perforators to aid him in piercing stones or other 
objects, trinkets of almost unending sorts as personal 

I trust sufficient has been said to awaken an interest 
in a subject that really deserves greater attention than has 
been given to it. These vestiges of prehistoric man are 
rapidly disappearing, and it is only seldom now one picks 
up a find of this nature. But enough have been found and 
kept to prove to coming generations that they were far re- 
moved from savagery, and that even they lived in an age of 
progression. Not only did they develop a remarkable adept- 
ness in the art of skilled labor, where the word meant more 
than it expresses to-day, until they left us, their successors, 
those stone relics, silent yet speaking of centuries of patient 
progression in a craft which called for more than ordinary 
capacity to work on and upward, but they became the slow 
and sure agent by which was evolved from small begin- 
nings certain products of the soil. From the tasteless 
gourd climbing its rocky bed in the heart of the mountains 
of the West they developed the savory melon, which was 
so much prized, not only by them, but by us. From a 
small berry growing wild they obtained the bean. Through 
their assiduous cultivation for a period of years they im- 
proved the wild apple, until several of the varieties that we 
raise to-day came down to us from them as heirlooms. Of 
greater importance than either of these achievements 
through centuries of cultivation and propagation they devel- 
oped from a wild, coarse grass known as maize, and growing 
upon the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, that golden grain 
more priceless to us than even the mines of the Garden 
of the Gods. Civilization has been aided by the destructive 
forces of air and earth to destroy the vestiges of these peo- 
ple who deserve more of us than we have been willing to 



acknowledge, but let us garner into our storehouses of 
treasures the best that we find of them. The wigwam has 
vanished with the smoke of their council fire, the warwhoop 
long since died out in the valleys, the tocsin of war faded 
two centuries and more ago from our mountain peaks, but 
the etymologist traces their boundary lines in the names 
upon our rivers and hills, their fishing places upon our 
ponds and lakes, their hunting grounds in the vales and 
sunny slopes that they loved. The earth-eaten arrow-head 
and tomahawk, the chisel and gouge, with the humbler in- 
struments of their domestic affairs point to the patient 
finder the site of their long-lost habitations. Not always 
are the deeds of the most worthy perpetuated in song and 
story; the bards of Greece sang the praises of a race no 
doubt inferior to many others whose triumphs have been 
lost because there was no fitting poet to immortalize them 
upon the tablets of time. And though no claim is put forth 
to place those of this period among the illustrious heirs of 
history, yet when we think of primitive man as having no 
language, no shelter but the rocks and caverns of earth, no 
food save what nature provided in its simple state, no imple- 
ments of work or skill, we find that the sons of the Stone 
Age of the Merrimack were far removed from such a stage. 
Above all was exhibited that trait which we should revere 
as a part of our own nature, freedom, of which the poet, 
Charles Sprague, has so aptly said : 

" I venerate the Pilgrim's cause, 

Yet for the red man dare to plead. 
We bow to Heaven's recorded laws, 

He turned to Nature for a creed ; 
Beneath the pillared dome, 

We seek our God in prayer ; 
Through boundless woods he loved to roam, 

And the Great Spirit worshipped there. 
But one, one fellow throb with us he felt; 
„ To one divinity with us he knelt ; 

Freedom, the self-same freedom we adore, 
Bade him defend his violated shore." 

0£ramtc J>tate Ctooftrees 


The Romance of " Ocean Mary" 

By J. Warrbn Thyng 


1 r|_2REVIOUS to 1720, the year in which the principal 
^p^> events of this narrative occurred, many families of 
J^-lr Scotch peasantry crossed the North Channel and 
found, for a time, homes in the larger towns on or near the 
coast of Ireland. Thus Londonderry became the residence 
of a large number of Scotch yeomanry. 

In those old times of slow ships and many perils of the 
sea, it was a far cry from Londonderry in Ireland to Lon- 
donderry in the Granite State ; still Scotland and the Em- 
erald Isle had already sent sturdy pioneers to the new 
world on the Merrimack. 

Tradition, often the truer part of history, has failed to 
save from oblivion the name of the ship which sailed from 
Londonderry for Boston in July, 1720, but she is said to 
have been in many respects vastly superior to others of her 
class in those times. At any rate, long before she dropped 
anchor off the picturesque coast, many well-to-do families 
had prepared for the long voyage. Of those who from the 
deck of the departing ship watched the green shores of 
Ireland fade from view, a large proportion were not only 
strong of limb, but thrifty and provident. 

Out through Lough Foye, past Inishowen Head and 
far beyond Giant's Causeway, with favoring winds, sailed 
the fated ship. 

Among the passengers were James Wilson and his 
young wife. A year before Wilson married Elizabeth Ful- 
ton, and they were now on their way to Londonderry, N. H., 



where land had been laid out to James Wilson as one of the 
grantees of that town. 

In the small valley settlement to which Wilson and his 
wife were traveling were friends under whose hands profit- 
able harvests were sure, and a generation was springing up 
whose influence was to be felt long years after. 

Concerning the earlier part of the voyage of the emi- 
grant ship, tradition is nearly silent, although certain frag- 
mentary accounts hint of a protracted calm and following 
storm of such violence that the vessel was driven from her 
course. However that may be, it is reasonably certain that 
the passage was about one third accomplished when events 
transpired that made the voyage memorable in the lives of 
all on board. 

One sultry evening the lookout saw on the horizon a 
sail standing like a gray silhouette against the early rising 
moon. All through the hot summer night the strange craft 
wore nearer and nearer, and when morning came her low 
hull could be seen like a black shadow under her full set of 

The pirate was within gunshot of the emigrant ship. 
To fight or run away was not to be thought of. The slow 
ship had not a dozen muskets. They simply waited. They 
had not long to wait, for boats were soon alongside and, 
swarming upon the deck, the robbers fell to work as men 
who knew how to plunder and kill. Crew and passengers 
were bound, and some were left lying where they were cap- 
tured, and some were rolled into corners, just as suited a 
momentary freak of the invaders. 

None were killed. Valuables were gathered into par- 
cels convenient to be transferred to the pirate ship. The 
robber captain, going below to search the officers' quarters, 
threw open the after-cabin door with a rough hand, but see- 
ing a woman lying in the berth, stopped. 

"Why are you there?" demanded the ruffian. 

"See." The terrified woman uncovered a baby's face. 

Then the pirate drew near. " Is it a boy or a girl ?" 


" A girl. " 

" Have you named her ? " 

" No." 

The pirate went to the cabin door and commanded that 
no man stir until further orders. Then, returning, he went 
close to the berth where the woman lay, and said gently, 
"If I may name that baby, that little girl, I will unbind 
your men and leave your ship unharmed. May I name the 


Then the rough old robber came nearer still and took 
up the* tiny, unresisting hand of the baby. "Mary," was 
the name the woman heard him speak. There were other 
words, but spoken so low she could not hear. Only his 
Maker and his own heart knew, but when the child drew its 
hand away the mother saw a tear on the pink fingers. 

There have been other knights than Bayard. Here 
was one. 

As good as his word, the pirate captain ordered all 
captives unbound, and goods and valuables restored to the 
places from which they had been taken ; then with his crew 
he left the ship and pulled to his own vessel. But the emi- 
grant ship had scarcely got under way when a new alarm 
came te them. The pirate was returning. 

If they were dismayed at his reappearance, they were 
surprised to see him come on board alone and go directly 
below to the cabin. There he took from a parcel a piece of 
brocaded silk of marvelous fineness of texture and beauty 
of design. Seen at a little distance, the effect of the pat- 
tern is as of a plaid, combining in wonderfully harmonized 
tones nameless hues of red and green, softened with lines 
of what evidently was once white. 

Time has, perhaps, somewhat mellowed its color tone, 
but the richness of its quality is as the richness of pearls. 

"Let Mary wear this on her wedding day," the pirate 
said as he laid the silk on the berth. 

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The pirate left the ship and was seen no more. In the 
fullness of time the emigrant ship reached Boston without 
further incident. There James Wilson died soon after 
landing. Elizabeth Wilson, with Mary, soon after went to 
live in Londonderry, where friends were waiting for them. 
Here the widow married James Clark, great-great-grand- 
parent of Horace Greeley. 

For years the people of the little hamlet religiously 
kept July 28, in thanksgiving for the deliverance of their 
friends from the hands of pirates. 

Some time early in the year 1738, Thomas Wallace 
emigrated to America and settled in Londonderry, where, 
on December 18 of the same year, he was married to Ocean 
Mary by Rev. Mr. Davidson of that town. Her wedding 
gown was the pirate's silk. 

A granddaughter and a great-granddaughter have also 
worn the same dress on like occasions. 

Four sons were born to Mary Wallace, three of whom 
removed to Henniker. There, on a sightly hill, Robert 
built the house which in his day was far and away the 
grandest mansion in all the country around. He was a man 
of large hospitality and intelligent strength of character. 

Here Ocean Mary lived many years, and died in 18 14 
at the age of ninety-four years. Her grave is in the Center 
burying ground, about half way down the middle walk, a 
bowshot distant from the railroad station. The curious 
visitor may, if he choose, read the inscription on the slate : 
"In Memory of Widow Mary Wallace, who died Feb'y 13, 
A. D„ 18 14, in the 94th year of her age." 

The likeness tradition has left of Ocean Mary is that 
of a woman symetrically tall, with light hair, blue eyes and 
florid complexion, together with a touch of the aristocracy 
of nature and a fine repose of manner in her energetic, 
determined and kindly ways. 


The house is four miles from Henniker village and 
about the same distance from Hillsborough. The visitor, 
if he have an eye for the picturesque, though he regret the 
decay that has overtaken the old manse, can but be charmed 
by the beauty of the landscape in the midst of which it i s 

Calling tfje Cotos 

A Memory of the Old Home in Shelburne 

By Eugene J. Haix 

The western sky wus all aglow 

With clouds o' red an' gray : 
The crickets in the grassy fields 

Were chirpin' merrily ; 
When up the lane an' o'er the hill, 

I saw a maiden roam, 
Who went her way at close o' day 

To call the cattle home : 

u Co boss, co boss, 
Co boss, co boss, 
Come home, come home." 

The echo o' her charmin' voice 

Resounded thro' the vale ; 
It lingered on the evenin' air, 

It floated on the gale, 
Twus borne along the mountain side, 

It drifted thro' the glen, 
It died away among the hills 

Far from the haunts o' men : 


" Co boss, co boss, 
Co boss, co boss, 
Come home, come home." 

Her face was flushed with hues o' health, 

Her arms and feet were bare, 
See hed a lithe and active form, 

A wealth o' ebon hair. 
Beyond the hills she passed from sight, \ 

Ez sinks an evenin' star, 
Until her voice wus faintly heard 

Still callin' from afar : 

" Co boss, co boss, 
Co boss, co boss, 
Come home, come home." 

Soon o'er the grassy knoll appeared 

The cattle, red an' brown, 
An* from the pastur' to the lane 

Came quickly trottin' down. 
With sparklin' eyes, an' cheeks aglow, 

Returned the maiden gay, 
Who waved her arms an shouted low : 

*' Whay boss ! whay boss ! O whay I 

" Whay boss ! whay boss ! 
Whay boss ! whay boss ! 
O whay ! O whay ! " 


<®ucen of the ^orttf}!* 

By George Waldo Browne 

The sun soars high an azure zone, 
And softened glows the lambent air; 

Nor wild flowers fear the frosts that fret, 
Nor chill winds sigh thro' tree-tops bare. 

For queenly June has come again, 

When Nature smiles on hill and plain. 

The cuckoo's notes awake the dell ; 

His happy song the martin trills ; 
While on the ambient breeze is borne 

The murmuring of the rippling rills ; 
Tis now the merry-making June, 
When Nature sings her sweetest rune. 

From meadows gemmed with buttercups, 
Sweet scented with the breath of clover, 

The soft winds kiss the blushing rose. 
And gently woo the laughing poplar ; 

For June's the reign of lover's arts — 

The trysting-time for happy hearts. 

So weave your garland of arbutus, 

And crown your queen, capricious May ; 
Or praise October's golden beauty, 

And to her splendor homage pay ; 
My queen comes crowned with roses blest- 
Fair June, whom Nature loves the best I 




U^ - ■ 

t^f 8 



#ermc ^eebs of M^V Hanbs; 


The Young Peace-Makers 

By Victor St. Clair 


KJPNNUALLY, for many, many years, on a certain 
-^2^ summer day, the even tenor of old Hamburg was 
^5^2^ relieved of the monotony of its daily life by a 
holiday known far and wide as "The Feast of 
Cherries." I think this happy occasion, with all the 
national pride of our Fourth of July, but without its noise 
and glamor of torches, was something like our Children's 
Day. Be that as it may, it was wholly a children's festival, 
and at the conclusion of church services held, in commem- 
oration of the event which this day had been set apart to 
keep alive in the minds and hearts of the inhabitants, as 
many of the children as were large enough to do so were 
dressed in snow-white garments and, carrying over their 
heads branches of cherry trees loaded with ripened fruit, 
marched proudly through the streets. Then men grown 
gray in wars, and civilians of the town in whatever station, 
uncovered their heads, while women waved their kerchiefs 
and sang the national songs, as the gay procession passed. 
In the homes of the people that evening the absorbing 
theme of conversation was sure to be that other day when 
the children of olden times, with their cherry wands, 
marched in their spotless robes to save the city from an 
enemy that had never shown mercy. The eye of the nar- 
rator, as he retold the simple story, was certain to kindle 
with the fire of patriotism, while the recital filled the hearts 
of the listeners with new-found love for home and native 
land that brought them nearer unto God. 



Rising from a frontier blockhouse or castle on the 
Slavonic border of Germany, and founded by Charles the 
Great, Hamburg has been described as one of the most 
remarkable cities of Europe. It stands a little less than a 
hundred miles from the sea, on the right bank of the Elbe, 
where that river is joined by the Alster. The older por- 
tion of the city lies to the east of the last-named river, and 
still retains the ancient name of Alstadt. This district lies 
low and is crossed by many canals or " fleets," as they are 
called by its inhabitants. Subject to the ebb and flow of 
the Elbe, a part of the time they are quite dry, while at 
others they are filled to over-flowing. Often the tide rises 
to fifteen or twenty feet above its ordinary height, in which 
case an alarm is quickly sounded by a lookout stationed to 
warn the people of their danger. Three shots are fired if 
the river shows unusual height, and if the rise threatens to 
become extraordinary three shots more are fired, when the 
aroused populace hastily escape to the surrounding suburbs 
that stand on more elevated grounds. So, while the old 
town looks exceedingly sleepy, it is a sleep "with one eye 
kept open," and one never knows just when to look for the 
peril that comes on the crest of the tide. 

A great fire in 1842 nearly destroyed the older portion 
of the city, and where before stood the quaint, odd-looking 
buildings of another era of architecture, more modern 
structures have been erected. But if it lost its olden pres- 
tige it received the honor of having opened for public wor- 
ship in 1863 the second highest building in the world, 
whose tower rises to the great height of 473 feet. The 
building is of the rich Gothic style of the thirteenth cen- 
tury, and is adorned with beautiful sculptures. Though it 
cost over a million dollars, it was mostly paid for by weekly 
shilling subscriptions from the common people. It was 
thirty years in building. Of the churches of the day of 
which I write, only two, St. Catherine's and St. James', 
remain as monuments of the stormy period when Ham- 



burg was a frequent sufferer from the attacks of the Danes 
and the Slavonians. 

The story is of long ago, when it was a peaceful city, 
shunning war and its accompanying horrors ; in the gray 
days of Germanic poetry, legend and romance, long ere her 
modern generals and statesmen, her William, Bismarck and 
Von Moltke, transformed with will of iron, cannon of con- 
quest and baptism of blood her ancient castles and feudal 
states into the great military and political power of the 
present German Empire. Still it is well to remember that, 
if weaker as a grand whole, the Germanic realm of that 
period was greater in extent of territory than is that of 
to-day — a. Germany that embraced in its sway Norway, 
Sweden, Denmark, England, the present dominions of the 
empire of Germany, the Baltic provinces of Russia, Austria, 
Holland, the Germanic cantons of Switzerland, and the 
Lowlands of Old Scotia, now known as Scotland. These 
countries not only belonged to one kindred, but they were 
bound together by ties stronger than those welded by polit- 
ical coercion, the holy ties of a people speaking the same 
language and bowing to one religion. 

In the midst of its tranquility there came an hour when 
heralds brought to this sleepy old town the startling tidings 
that an army was marching to pillage it, and carry off its 
people or put them to death. Anxiety and excitement 
quickly reigned, while all possible preparations were made 
for a defense. 

As there were no soldiers among them these civilians 
had to place in command a merchant named Wolff. But he 
managed affairs so well and adroitly that they succeeded in 
holding at bay the enemy for more than a week. Yet so 
poorly had they been prepared to sustain a long siege that 
by this time their provisions had become exhausted. The 
close of another day, at the most, must find them face to 
face with a new foe — starvation ! Captain Wolff knew too 
well the reputation for lack of pity of their enemy to think 
of appealing to him for mercy. He had vowed that he 


would destroy the town, let the consequence be what it 

The following afternoon found the beleaguered people 
hollow-eyed and hopeless. Their defense and loss Of tife 
had been all in vain. Now it was unanimously decided that 
it would be better to meet a speedy death at the hands of 
the foe than to suffer the pangs of hunger longer. Before 
flinging open the gates Captain Wolff, in desperation rather 
than in hope, asked for the privilege of consulting with 
their enemy, even if he had never been known to display 
any leniency toward those whom he had overpowered. 

Captain Wolff was on his way toward the city's outer 
gate when, as he afterwards said, he felt a desire which he 
could not overcome to see his home once more. So it was 
no chance movement, but the guiding influence of a benign 
Providence which led him to the scenes he loved so well. 
Taking a farewell look at his garden, which had been his 
pride in the happy days gone by, he saw through his tears 
that his cherry trees were heavily laden with ripe fruit. 
Upon seeing these cherries, large, luscious, and so refresh- 
ing to the palate, a new idea came into his mind, which 
must have been an inspiration from heaven. He had 
learned that, while they were suffering for food, their 
enemies were almost equally in want of water, it being then 
in the midst of a summer's drought. What would they not 
give for this juicy fruit, which would be such a soothing 
balm for their parched throats ? 

His plan of action came to him spontaneously, and 
without delay he sent for three hundred children, all to be 
dressed in white and to be marched to his garden. If some 
parents felt a hesitation about adopting the suggestion, their 
children were excused from performing a part, but before 
the train was completed those who at first shrank from the 
duty, asked to be accepted. As fast as the little ones came 
in their spotless garments, Captain Wolff and his assistants 
gave each one a cherry branch loaded with the fruit. With 
these tiny globes nodding together over their heads, like so 


many dancing fairies in red and crimson frocks, the won- 
dering children were marshaled to the city's gate. Then 
the kind-hearted commander, with a huskiness in his voice 
he could not clear, instructed them how to proceed; a prayer 
was offered for their safety, and the little messengers were 
sent forth on their strange and hazardous mission, while 
fond mothers bowed their heads in anguish, and stout- 
hearted fathers turned aside to conceal their emotions. 

With what amazement the commander of the besieg- 
ing army saw the gates of the city flung wide open and the 
little white-robed figures, half hidden by the cherry branches, 
come marching out with the orderliness of trained soldiers, 
may be imagined but cannot be described. He knew the 
town's people were in sore distress, and he was expecting 
an offer of capitulation, but this action he believed was 
some stratagem to outwit him. Thus the look of exulta- 
tion on his dark, stern features gave way to one of fierce 
determination, and he resolved to order the swift annihila- 
tion of the innocent train. Still the beautiful sight fasci- 
nated him. He gazed upon it spellbound, while the chil- 
dren, unmindful of their great danger, continued to advance, 
until their thin, pinched faces, all written over with the 
story of their recent sufferings, were plainly seen by him. 
And while he looked upon them his mind flew back to his 
home and his own grieving little ones waiting anxiously for 
his return from the war. The strong man sensed a strange 
feeling stealing over him, and such a huskiness came into 
his voice that the order he intended to give was never 
spoken aloud. 

As he hesitated the fairy-like procession reached some 
of the soldiers, who eagerly accepted the proffered cherries. 
Then, as the cooling juice relieved the dryness of their 
throats, loud huzzas rent the air. Discipline was for once 
forgotten, and the thirsty men crowded around the little 
angels of mercy, who, under the strength of divine power, 
by their simple act of charity had won a victory the armed 
men of Hamburg had contended for in vain. Ay, theirs 



was a nobler, happier conquest than was ever achieved by 
arms, for it was a triumph of love over hate, a victory of 
the higher impulses of man over the brute forces. 

When the happy children returned to their homes, 
wagon loads of provisions were sent in to the starving peo- 
ple, and also a message from the general who had at last 
been conquered by a band of children, stating that he was 
ready and anxions to sign a treaty of peace with those 
whom he had once made oath to destroy. Often the writ- 
ers of the world's history of war and conquest pause to 
describe some little incident of personal valor or heroic 
self-sacrifice, upon which momentous events have hinged, 
thereby brightening the dark pages of bitter struggles and 
great victories, but among them all, whether it be the tri- 
umphs of kings or the glory of some humble soldier, there 
is nowhere a more beautiful instance of victory than the 
salvation of Hamburg by the little children who, with their 
cherry boughs, marched against an army. 

O^rtrerlp 2£ook 

Kept by Jeremiah Fogg, Adjutant Colonel Enoch Poor's 
Second New Hampshire Regiment, on Winter Hill, 
During the Siege of Boston, October 28, 1775, to Jan- 
uary 12, 1776* 

Compiled by Albert A. Folsom, and Sketch of Major Fogg by Hon. Charles H. Bell 

vjOR JEREMIAH FOGG, the oldest son of the 
1 Rev. Jeremiah Fogg of Kensington, was born in 
1749; graduated at Harvard College in 1768; 
spent several years as a teacher in Newburyport, 
where he commenced the study of law with Theophilus Par- 

*The gift of the Rev. Joseph Osgood, of Cohasset, Mass. [born in Kensington, N. H.], 
to Harvard University, October 10, 1842. 



sons, the most eminent jurist of the time. At the com- 
mencement of hostilities, in 1775, he entered Colonel Poor's 
regiment as one of the staff officers, and continued in the 
service through the whole war. At the close of the Revo- 
lution, he returned to Kensington, took a prominent part in 
the political movements of the country, for several years 
was a member of the New Hampshire senate, and died in 
1808, at the age of fifty-nine years. He married Lydia 
Hill, of Cambridge. It is said that when he saw her chris- 
tened, while he was a college student, he playfully remarked 
that he meant to marry her ; and though he was a youth of 
about seventeen and she but an infant, still after years of 
adventure he found in her his future wife. As an instance 
of coolness and courage, one of his soldiers said that at 
one time his command was surrounded by a superior force 
of the enemy, and then Major Fogg told them to load their 
guns and put on their bayonets and blaze through. He 
seems to have been a brave and efficient officer and his 
journals and letters, though written in the camps of the 
army, manifest his superior education and ability. 

Headquarters, Newburg, 
Nov. 22, 1782. 
Capt, Jer'h. Fogg of the 2d New Hampshire regiment, is appointed 
Brigade Major to the New Hampshire Brigade, vice Capt. Robinson and 
is .to be respected accordingly. 

Copied from William Torrey's orderly book, now in 
possession of his grandson, Benjamin B. Torrey, treasurer 
of the Boston & Providence Railroad Corporation, Boston, 

Council of Safety, page 334, New Hampshire Histor- 
ical Collections : 

> Friday, March 12, 1784. 

Ordered the treasurer to pay Maj'r Jeremiah Fogg One Hundred & 
two pounds nine Shillings and seven pence Extra pay as Aid de Camp to 
Gen'l Poor from 2d July, 1779 to Se P l - 8tn « l 7% ' 


Head Quarters, Oct. 28, 1775. 

Parole Putnam Count'gn Heath. 

The Genl Court Martial whereof Colo Bridge was President is dis- 

It is recommended to the non Commissd Officers & Soldiers whose 
Pay will be drawn in Consequence of last Thursdays Orders (Especially 
to those whose Attatchment to the glorious Cause in which they are en- 
gaged and which, will induce them to continue another Year) to lay out 
their Money in Shirts Shoes Stockings and a good. Pair of Leather 
Breeches and not in Coats and Waistcoats as it is intended that the New 
Army shall be Cloathed in Uniform to effect which the Congress will lay 
in Goods upon the best Terms they can be bought any where for ready 
Cash and will Sell them to the Soldiers without any Profit, by which 
means a Uniform Coat and Waistcoat will come Cheaper to them than 
any other Cloathing of the like Kind can be bought. 

A Number of Taylors will be immediately Set to work to make Regi- 
mentals for those brave Men who are willing at all Hazards to defend their 
Rights and Privileges. 

The undermentioned Persons in Col. Whitcombs Regiment to be sent 
directly to the Quartermaster Gen'l (viz) David Clark Saml Barrett John 
Palmer James Farmer David Fleman Amos Brown Joshua Holt Philip 
Overlook & Joseph Chapman to burn Charcoal for the Use of the Army. 
Five more Woodcutters from each Brigade to be added to those already 
ordered to cut Fire Wood under the Direction of the Quartermaster Genl 
A General Courtmartial to Set Monday Morning at 9 o'clock in Cam- 
bridge to try Prisoners as shall be brought before them, all Evidences and 
"Persons concerned to attend the Court. 

Josiah Mecow Soldier in this Army but in what comp'y or Regimt is 
not known may hear of something much to his Advantage by applying in 
Person to the Adj't Genl at Head Quarters Brigade Orders Oct 29th 1775, 
Colo Poor Field Officer of the Day Tomr 

Adjut Putnam 
Lt. Colo Wyman Field off of the Picqt 
Within the lines Colo Doolittle 
Sergt from Col. Poor's Regt, 1 — 2 — 1 — 1 — 42 

Head Quarters Oct.r 29th 1775, 
Parole Thomas Countr Spencer 

Winter Hill 
Brigade Orders 
Lt Colo Holden Officer of the Day Tomorrow 

Adjt Putnam 
Field Officers of Picqt 
and one to act as Adj't 

Col. Stark his Surg. 

Maj. Butterick 
Within the Lines Colo Webb 
Plowed hill* Colo Poors Regt. o — 1 — 2 — 1 — 42 

* Later named Convent Hill. 


Head Quarters Octr 30, 1775 
Parole Andover Countersign Bedford 

Camp on Winter Hill, Octr 30 
Brigade Orders 

Field Officer of the Day Tomorrow Mr Moor 
Field Officer of the Picqt Lt Colo Gilman 
Pisqt within the Lines To Night Col Reeds Regt. 

Plough'd Hill 

C Sub. St. 
From Colo Poors Regimt 1 — 1—2—42 

Head Quarters Octo 31, 1775 
Parole Cambridge Countsn Dedham 

As many Officers and others have began to enlist Men for the Conti- 
nental Army without Orders from Head Quarters the General desires that 
immediate Stop be put thereto that the Inlistment be returned and that no 
Person for the future presume to interfere in the matter till there is a 
proper Establishment of Officers, and those Officers authorized and in- 
structed in what Manner to proceed. Commissions for the New Army are 
not intended merely for those who can inlist most men, but for such Gentle- 
men as are most likely to deserve them. The General would not have it even 
Supposed therefore, nor our Enemies encouraged to believe, that there is 
a Man in the Army except a few under particular Circumstances who will 
require to be twice called to do what his honor, his personal Liberty the 
Welfare of his Country, and the Safety of his Family so loudly demand of 
him. When Motives, powerful as these Conspire, to call men into Service 
and when that Service is rewarded with higher Pay than Private Soldiers 
ever yet met with in any former War, the Genl cannot nor will not till he 
is convinced to the Contrary harbor so despicable an Opinion of their 
Understanding and Zeal for the Cause as to believe they will deserve it. 

As the Congress has been at much Pains to buy Goods to cloath the 
new Army, and the Quartermaster Genl at great Trouble to collect on the 
best Terms he can such Articles as are wanting for this Purpose, he is 
directed to reserve those Goods for those brave Soldiers who are deter- 
mined to Stand forth in Defence of their Country another year, and that 
he may be able to quit the service, at the End of their present Engagement 
he will be furnished with the Inlistments, any Person therefore (Negroes 
excepted, which the Congress do not incline to inlist again) coming with a 
proper Order and will Subscribe the Inlistment shall be immediately sup- 
plied, and that every non Commissioned Officer and Soldier may know 
upon what Terms he engages, he is hereby informed that he is to be paid 
by Callendar Months, at the present Rate viz 48s to the Serjeants 44 to 
Corporals Drummers and Fifers and 40 to the Privates, which pay tis ex- 
pected will be regularly distributed every Month, that each Man is to fur- 


nish his own Arms, and good ones, or if Arms are found him he is to allow 
6s for the Use of it during the Campaign, that he is to pay for his Cloath- 
ing, which will be laid in for him on the best Terms it can be bought, for 
which a Stoppage of ios Pr Month will be made till the Cloathing are paid 
for — that two Dollars will be allowed every one of them who brings a good 
Blanket of his own with him, and will have Liberty to carry it away with 
him at the End of the Campaign — that the present Allowance of Provisions 
will be continued to them and that every Man who inlists shall be indulged 
with a reasonable Time to visit his Family in the Course of the Winter, to 
be regulated in Such a Manner as not to weaken the Army or injure the 
Service. The Quartermaster Genl in preparing Barracks for the Officers 
b to assign one to each compleat Corps under the new Establishment. 

Camp on Winter Hill Oct. 31st, 1775 
Brigade Orders 

Field Officers of the Day Tomorrow Lt. Colo Nixon. Adjutant 

Field Officers of the Picqt Colo Webb his Surgeon and one to act as 
Adj'nt. Maj'r Hale within the Lines Colo Nixons Regt. 
Plough 'd Hill, Col. Poor's Regt 1— 2—1 — 1—42 

Camp on Winter Hill Nov. 1, 1775 
Regimental Orders. 

Joseph Fogg Quartermaster is appointed to collect all the Fines in 
this Regiment and dispose of them as ordered by the Commanding Officer 
of the Regiment. 

Pr. Order Col. Poor, J. Fogg Ad"t. 
That a Courtmartial be held Tomorrow Morning at 9 oClock whereof 
Capt. Leavet is appointed President to try all Persons that may be brought 
before them 

Lieut Beal 
Lieut Lyford 
Ensign Chase 
Ensign Chandler 
All Evidences and Persons Concerned are desired to attend. 

Head Quarters November ith 1775 

Parole Dorchester, Countersign Epsom The General Recommends it to 
those officers who have Signified there Intentions to Continue in the Ser- 
vice of the united Colonies another Campaign not to Run Themselves to 
any Expense in Providing Coats & Waistcoats until They are arraigned 
Into Proper Cores, and the uniform of the Regiment they may belong to 
acertained, which will probably be done in a few days 


Brigadier Orders, Camp Winter Hill Nov. i. 

Field Officers of the Day to Morrow Lieut Col Gilman, adjutant Hoi- 
den of the day 

Field officer of the Picqut Lt Col Hall 
Picqt within the Lines to Night Col Starks Regt. 
From Col Poors Regiment 

I — I — 2 — I — 42 

Head Quarters November 2d 1775 

Parole Falmouth Countersign Georgie Brigade Orders 

Field officer of The day to Morrow Major Putnam, Adjutant Chan- 
dler of the Day Field officer of the Picquit Col Nixon His Surgeon and 
one to act as Adjutant And Major La Himore 

Picquet within the Lines to Night Col Poors Regimt Picquit on Plough 
Hill to Morrow 
From Col Poors Regt 1 — 2 — 1 — 1 — 42 

Nov 1, 1775 — A Regimental Court Martial ordered to sett tomorrow To 
Try all Persons brought before them by ordr Col Poor whereof Captain 
Moses Savill is appointed Pres'd Members Ensign Drew, Ensign Lyford, 
Ensign Chase, Ensign Chandler, George Sheppard being brought Before 
the Court, for steeling from thrething and abusing one Patten Rus- 
sell the Prisoner Pled not Guilty and begs The Court will adjourn so 
that he may git his Evidences Accordingly the Court is adjourned untill 
2 oClock P M Mett according to adjournment and proceed'd to Try the 
Prisoner the Court are unanimously of opinion the Prisoner is not Guilty 
of the Crime laid against him therefore will Acquit Him 

Moses Lavitt, Presdt 

The Commanding officer approves the opinion of the Court and orders 
the Prisoner to be Immediately Dismissed from Guard 

Enoch Poor, Col 

^tamonb£ tn <£ramte 


" Leather French " 

By As Old-Tim er 

T IS doubtful if many will accord to the subject of 
the present sketch the dignity of belonging to a 
|lfej £ class deserving of a written biography, yet often a 
single deed in an otherwise wasted life will rescue 
it from oblivion. So it seems to me that the life of the 
humble man whose name by which he was best known 
stands at the head of this article deserves some tribute of 
recognition, some written word that may keep his memory 

Stephen Youngman French, for that was the name 
which was given him by his parents, was the only son of 
Joseph and Mary (Youngman) French, and was born in 
Hollis, N. H., September 23, 1781. His father was a sol- 
dier in the Revolution, fought in the battle of Bunker Hill, 
and did meritorious service elsewhere. Stephen, while not 
considered as a particularly bright boy, was looked upon as 
one witH" fair prospects in life. Ere he reached manhood, 
however, he seemed to have met his fate in the person of a 
winsome country maiden a few years his senior. There is 
nothing to show that his love was reciprocated, and the 
youth immediately grew melancholy. It is probable that 
this was an inherent trait of character, likely to assert itself 
at the first provocation. At any rate, Stephen French 
began to show such marked tendencies in that direction 
that his parents sent him away from home, hoping that a 
change might prove beneficial to him. He had distant rel- 
atives in Exeter, Me., and thither he was sent with the 



tears of a hopeful mother and the prayers of an anxious 

The change of scene did not effect the alteration that 
was anticipated, and within a few years the young man, 
instead of living with those who desired to treat him kindly, 
retired from their midst and lived in a rude cabin built of 
sods and sticks of wood, in a desolate piece of country 
known in local geography as "The Hurricane." This was 
a tract of land that was looked upon as unfit for even a 
clearing, and the remains of a forest slaughtered by lumber- 
men were left to decay where they had fallen, while briars, 
weeds and brushwood sprang up into a tangled mass of 

The abandonment by the simple-minded youth of the 
comforts of life created only a ripple of conversation in the 
gossip of the town, and his course was soon looked upon 
as a natural outcome of such a shiftless beginning, for nine 
out of ten considered him too lazy to earn his living in the 
ordinary way. Let that be as it may, the young hermit set 
himself about making a small clearing in the midst of his 
unpromising surroundings, and on the small patch of culti- 
vated soil, poor as it was, he managed to raise corn and 
vegetables enough to afford him food for sustenance, with 
the few extra supplies given him. 

In due course of time his clothes wore into shreds, so 
that they had to be replaced by others. In this plight he 
resorted to tanned sheepskins, which constituted his sole 
wardrobe, and from this day he became known as " Leather 

Apparently having no ambition to keep in touch with 
the world, Leather French eked out his existence, which 
must have grown less hopeful year by year, until his brown 
hair became plentifully streaked with white, though he still 
carried himself as erect as in his younger years. His hum- 
ble hut was frequently the objective place for some curious 
visitor, and his gaunt, uncouth figure, clad in ragged sheep- 
skins, was a sight to attract the children, until he tired of 


this unsought-for notice and, immediately upon discovering 
any one coming toward his cabin, he would go in and close 
the skin door against intrusion. Nothing that could be 
said would call him forth. 

One summer morning, as he was standing just outside 
of his hut, admiring in his humble way, none the less sin- 
cere for its utter humility, some pleasant spot in his sur- 
roundings, he saw a small party coming into sight, and he 
was about to retreat when he came to the conclusion that 
they were berry pickers. In their midst he saw a little 
child, a girl he knew by the bright dress she wore. He 
chuckled to himself as he saw the light-hearted women 
turn aside from the beaten path in quest of the ripe berries, 
which at that time hung in great clusters from the bushes. 
The cause of his pleasure was shown by his low-spoken 
words a moment later : 

" Poor fools ! the old bear I see down there yesterday 
will send 'em kitin' home," and he laughed again, a hollow, 
mirthless laugh. 

He must have sat there an hour, knitting his long, 
slender fingers together in a way that was common to him 
when he was idle, when suddenly a scream, with childish 
sharpness to it, rang on his ears. He was on his feet in a 
moment, listening with rapt attention. The cry came from 
far to his right, and not in the direction the berry pickers 
had taken. But he recognized the voice as that of his 
little friend who wore the bright dress. 

- Now, with all his lack of thrift and interest in others, 
Leather French had a warm place in his heart for children. 
If he was in doubt in regard to the import of the cry, the 
second which quickly followed removed all hesitation in an 
instant. The little one was frightened at some object, and 
he thought of the big black bear which he had seen in that 
direction the day before. 

Without stopping longer he started in the direction of 
the appeal for help, tearing through the thick brambles that 
caught at his rude garments with a revengeful clutch, as if 


they were maddened by his unceremonious entrance into 
their exclusive domains. Regardless of this terrific oppo- 
sition to his advance, his long arms threshing the air while 
he plunged ahead, Leather French swiftly reached the 
scene, where he discovered, just as he had expected, the 
little girl lying prone upon the ground, the big bear, look- 
ing uncommonly fierce and ugly, with a huge paw uplifted 
to strike the helpless little one. 

Aroused by the sight, without thinking or caring for 
his own safety, the hermit rushed forward, to clasp in his 
arms the descending paw of the big brute. He proved but 
a plaything in the power of the bear, but his interference 
did cause Mistress Bruin to miss her blow, though it sent 
her assailant in a heap upon the ground a yard away. 
Thoroughly angered now, she turned upon him, leaving the 
child, who had fainted, for this new enemy. But Leather 
French knew that if the bear should think him dead she 
would not touch him, and so well did he feign this state 
that, with a sniff at him, the clumsy brute turned away 
with apparent disgust at finding him so easily put out of 
opposition. The little girl was equally as motionless, and 
so Mistress Bruin slowly ambled away into the thicket, 
probably satisfied with her morning's work. 

As soon as he dared, Leather French arose to his feet 
and seizing the little one in his arms he ran back to his 
cabin almost as swiftly as he had come. By the time he 
had reached it he was overjoyed to find that the child had 
opened her eyes, and was looking wonderingly into his 
unkempt features. His laugh now had the ring of true 
pleasure in it, and the rescued child answered back with the 
sweetness of restored confidence. Presently the distracted 
mother, who had missed her little girl and made a vain 
search for her, appeared on the scene, followed by her com- 
panions. Discovering her lost one, she rushed forward to 
snatch her resentfully from the arms of the hermit, think- 
ing he had been the cause of her anxiety. 

When the truth was learned, however, the mother 


praised him for his noble act in saving her loved one, and 
begged of him to come and make a home in her family. 
But nothing could swerve the hermit from his solitary ways, 
and he lived there alone until old age compelled him finally 
to accept the protection of the Exeter poorhouse, where he 
died March 8, 1858, having reached the allotted threescore 
and ten years. There are a few who still remember him, 
and when these shall have passed away the following lines 
from one of Maine's most gifted poets will keep alive his 
memory while many, possibly more deserving, will have 
been forgotten : 

By David Barker, Esq, 

You have haunted the dreams of, my sleep, Leather French, 

You have troubled me often and long; 
And now to give rest to the waves of my soul, 

Leather French, let me sing you a song. 
I suppose the cold world may sneer, Leather French, 

For it has done so too often before, 
When the innermost spirit has snatched up its harp, 

Just to sing o'er the grave of the poor. 
. Never mind, let them laugh, let them sneer, Leather French, 

We will not be disturbed by them long, 
For we will step aside from the battle of life, 

While I question and sing you a song. 
You were poor when you lived here below, Leather French, 

And you suffered from hunger and cold, 
And it was well you escaped from the storm and the blast 

At the time you grew weary and eld. 
Has that old leather garb that you wore, Leather French, 

That you wore in the days long ago, 
Been exchanged for the robe that you named in your prayer, 

For a robe that is whiter than snow ? 
And that dreary old hut where you dwelt, Leather French, 

That old hut on the Hurricane lands, 
Was it bartered by you at the portals of death 

For a house not erected with hands ? 
When the toys that I love become stale, Leather French, 

And my life's fitful fever is past, 
Shall I safely cross over the Jordan of Death ? 

Shall I meet you in Heaven at last ? 
Tell me true, tell me all, tell me now, Leather French, 

For the tale you can tell me is worth 
More to me than the wisdom, the pleasure, the fame, 

And the riches and honors of earth. 
Shall I meet no response to my call, Leather French ? 

Tell me quick, for I cannot wait long, 
For I'm summoned again to the battle of life, — 

Leather French, I have finished my song, 

ppp?** - 


. 1 



'4 : 



• k9 



Granite ^tate ^emotrs 

Walter Cody was born in County Kilkenny, Ireland, 
December 24, 1837, of highly rspected parents. He was 
the son of Michael and Katherine (Fitz Gerald) Cody. 
One brother, Archdeacon Cody, and a sister, Mrs. Ellen 
Irish, the only surviving members of a large family, still 
reside there. He received his education in the parish 
schools, finishing with a course in a private academy at 
Waterford. When he first came to this country, he lived 
for a short period in North Andover, Mass., where he 
learned the machinist's trade, at the Davis & Furber 
Machine Company's works. In 1855 he came to Manches- 
ter, and was in the employ of the Manchester Locomotive 
Works until the war broke out. He promptly sacrificed his 
personal interests in his zeal for the cause, and Company 
C of the Third Regiment was organized largely by his 
efforts. He was appointed second lieutenant in August, 
i86i,and assigned to Capt. Michael T. Donohoe's Company 
C, Third Regiment, New Hampshire Volunteers, Col. Enoch 
Q. Fellows, later Col. John H. Jackson, commanding. 

This regiment was the second to be raised in the state 
for three years. It was organized and mustered into 
United States service in August, 1861, at Concord. The 
regiment left the state September 3, 1861, arrived at Wash- 
ington, D. C, on the 16th and encamped east of the Cap- 
itol, where it was thoroughly drilled until early in October, 
when it moved to Annapolis, Md. It was assigned to the 
First Brigade, Sherman's Division Expeditionary Corps. 
About the middle of October it embarked for Fortress 
Monroe, Va., thence sailed on the 29th to Port Royal, S. C, 
thence to Hilton Head, S. C, where it remained until 
1862, when it moved to Edisto Island and reconnoissance 
was made of the islands in the vicinity. May 23 it served 



with Headquarters Brigade, First Division, and early in 
June it was ordered to James Island and attached to the 
Second Brigade, Second Division, bearing a gallant part in 
the engagement at Secessionville, losing one hundred and 
five killed, wounded and missing. 

At the battle of Secessionville, James Island, June 16, 
he served temporarily with Company G, and was wounded 
by a gun shot in the right thigh, which caused him to be 
confined in the hospital at Hilton Head, S. C, for a few 
days; then in the hospital on Bedloe's Island, N. Y., where 
he remained two months, until removed to the Massachu- 
setts General Hospital, December 2, 1862, staying there 
till March 14, 1863. He was honorably discharged from 
active service November 15, 1862, for disability caused by 
his wound. 

In speaking of the engagement in his report, Col. J. H. 
Jackson says: "First Lieutenant Henderson, commanding 
Company G, was in a position near Company C and han- 
dled his company finely, with the assistance of Lieutenant 
Cody, detailed from Company C to assist him. Lieutenant 
Cody was shot through the thigh and Lieutenant Hender- 
son was shot in the arm." 

He was constantly with his command until wounded 
as above stated, bearing a loyal part in all its duties, and 
achieved a proud record for efficient service and soldierly 
conduct at all times. He was promoted First Lieutenant 
June 22, 1862, for gallant and meritorious service. 

He was appointed First Lieutenant November 9, 1863, 
in the Veterans' Reserve Corps, transferred to the 82d 
Company Second Battalion, March 26, 1864, an d to the 
command of the 149th Company, Second Battalion, May 4, 
1864. He served in the Veterans' Reserve Corps, at Cleff- 
bourn Barracks, Washington, D. C, Fairfax Seminary 
Hospital, Va., Nashville, Tenn. 

He received an honorable discharge at Nashville, Tenn., 
from Veterans' Reserve Corps, November 30, 1864, by rea- 


son of resignation on account of disability caused by 

Returning from the war, Mr. Cody engaged in the 
retail boot and shoe business as a member of the firm of 
McDonald & Cody, in which he continued for twenty-seven 
years. In 1890 his partner died and he continued the 
business until February, 1892, when he retired from active 
life, and after that time he occupied himself with his prop- 
erty and other interests. Mr. Cody was not a politician, 
but first voted the Republican ticket on Lincoln's second 
term. In 1890 the citizens of ward six sent him to repre- 
sent them in the legislature, and he served in that body 
during the term of 1890-91. 

He was a member of Louis Bell Post, No. 3, G. A. R., 
and was also heartily interested in the Irish cause, and 
when the Land League was organized in Manchester he was 
its first treasurer. 

On January 20, 1869, Mr. Cody married Ellen Cough- 
lin, the ceremony being performed by the Rev. William 
McDonald, from which union were born the following chil- 
dren: Genevieve C, William F., Ellen M., Michael D., and 
Mary G. In March, 1881, Genevieve and Ellen died, leav- 
ing three living. 

His wife and children found him a kind and loving hus- 
band and father. In manner he was unassuming and cour- 
teous and, although he was deeply interested in everything 
that concerned the welfare of the city, he was happiest at 
home with his family. 

In the summer of 1900, he went to Ireland and spent a 
number of weeks with relatives, visiting his boyhood home. 
Mr. Cody was always loyal to his religion and nationality, 
and has shown what a good American an Irish Catholic 
citizen can make. The sterling integrity which character- 
ized and formed the basis of his honorable and useful life 
present a lesson worthy of imitation. He died June 7, 
1904, at his home on Massabesic street, Manchester. 


Gen. William Parkinson Buckley was born in Lit- 
tleton, May 4, 1865, and died of pneumonia January 10, 
1906, in his forty-first year. Receiving his primary educa- 
tion in the Littleton schools, graduating from Dartmouth 
College in the class of 1887, admitted to the law firm of 
Jordan and Drew, he soon became one of the most promis- 
ing young lawyers in the north country. He was commis- 
sioned general on the staff of Governor Jordan, was an 
active member of the House of Representatives in 1903, 
and served as speaker of the mock session. He was mar- 
ried and possessed a pleasant home. 

Judge Edward J. Tenney, the second son of Amos 
and Persis S. (Pomeroy) Tenney, was born in Greenwich, 
Mass., December 11, 1836, and moved with his parents to 
Claremont the following April. Educated in the public 
schools of the town and the academy, he early entered the 
grocery business, which he followed, in partnership with 
Tolles and then Barrett, until 1881. He represented the 
town in the legislature in 1871-72, was twice elected rail- 
road commissioner, deputy collector of internal revenue 
from 1887 to 1899, director and treasurer of the Claremont 
Building Association, appointed judge of probate for Sulli- 
van county in 1891, and held many other positions of trust 
and importance in both political and industrial work. He 
married, in 1859, Miss Frances M. Hall of Claremont, and, 
besides the widow, a son, George Amos, cashier of the Peo- 
ple's National Bank of Claremout, survives him. He died 
January 15, 1906, from the bursting of a bloodvessel in his 
brain, and he was buried in the Episcopal church cemetery. 

George W. Lane, a native of Chichester, died in that 
town February 4, 1906, in his sixty-eighth year. He was a 
farmer and civil engineer, active in business affairs, repre- 
sented the town in the legislature, and held local offices. 
He is survived by the widow, one son, Ira L., and five 



Mrs. Martha F. Jones, who died in Merrimack Feb- 
ruary 5, 1906, in her sixty-ninth year, was a native of Hud- 
son. She taught school many years in California, where 
she was living with her husband, Mr. James T. Jones. 
Several years since she was widely known by her contribu- 
tions in the old school readers under the name of " Nettie 
Vernon." She was a most estimable woman, and besides 
her husband left two sons and one daughter. She belonged 
to the Baptist church at Nashua, and was a member of 
Webster Commandery, U. O. G. C. 

John Aiken Riddle, a native of Bedford, was born 
in that town September 3, 1826, arid died in that town Feb- 
ruary 3, 1906, in the house in which he was born nearly 
eighty years before. He was educated in the town schools 
and at Pembroke and Phillips Exeter Academies, and 
became a civil engineer. In 1858 he went to California 
with others who had caught the gold fever. Returning 
home he became imbued with the spirit that gold could be 
successfully mined here, and it is claimed that he extracted 
the first ounce taken from the rocks of New England. 
Left with ample means, he devoted his life to its care, add- 
ing considerable to its amount. He represented his town 
in the legislature [in 1882, and held various town offices. 
He was a member of the committee to publish a history of 
Bedford, and his clear memory made him a valuable assist- 
ant. He was never married. , 

John B. Rogers, known widely as a tin peddler for 
over fifty years, was a native of Ashland, where he died 
February 6, 1906, in his eighty-fourth year. He had no 
immediate relatives, and his wife, Miss Sally Smith, whom 
he married over sixty years ago, died the following year. 
H is regular visits in the interest of his wide trade won for 
him many friends. 

Capt. Henry B. Atherton was born in Cavendish, 
Vt, September 21, 1835, an d died in Nashua, February 6, 



1906. He was educated in the local schools until he en- 
tered Dartmouth College, from which he graduated in 1858. 
He graduated from the Albany Law School in i860, and 
the following year he entered the service in the Civil War 
as captain of Company C, Fourth Vermont Volunteers. 
He was wounded in the Peninsular campaign, discharged 
for disability and came to Nashua, where he passed the- 
remainder of his life. He was one of the foremost lawyers 
in this vicinity and a picturesque figure in social and polit- 
ical circles. Among the many positions of trust and honor 
that he held were those of treasurer of Hillsborough 
county; postmaster of Nashua, 1872 to 1876; represent- 
ative to the legislature, 1867-68 and 1885-86; delegate to 
the Republican National Convention in 1884. He was land 
commissioner, under President Harrison, for Samoa under 
the Berlin treaty. He was a 33d degree Mason and a mem- 
ber of John G. Foster Post, G. A. R. He married, in 1861, 
Miss Abbie L. Armington of Ludlow, Vt., who died in 
1886, and in 1898 he married, second, Ella Blaylock, M. D. y 
who survives him, as well as her two children, Blaylock and 
Ives. Four children by his first wife are living: Maud, who 
married A. W. Griswold of New York ; Grace, who mar- 
ried Dr. William F. Haselton of Springfield, Vt.; Anna, 
wife of Charles Snow of Nashua ; Henry Francis, a stu- 
dent at Harvard University. 

Gen. John Eaton was born in Sutton, December 5, 
1829, and died in Washington, D. C, February 9, 1906. 
General Eaton received his preparatory course at Thetford, 
Vt., and graduated from Dartmouth College in the class of 
'54; studied theology at Andover, Mass., and was ordained 
to preach ; went to the front in the Civil War, 1862, as 
chaplain of the Twenty-First Regiment, Ohio Volunteers ; 
in October, 1863, was appointed colonel of the Sixty-Third 
United States Infantry, and was given the rank of brig- 
adier-general in March, 1865. After the war he became 
prominently identified with political matters; was United 


States Commissioner of Education for fifteen years, 1871 
to 1886; and under the military occupation of Porto Rico 
by the United States became superintendent of public 
instruction, the present system of education on the island 
being largely due to his inauguration. His wife and three 
children survive him. 

Hon. Josiah G. Bellows was born in Walpole, July 
24, 1841, and died in his native town, February 17, 1906. 
The son of Josiah Bellows, 3d, and great-grandson of Col. 
Benjamin Bellows, one of the first settlers of Walpole, he 
attended the local schools, fitted for college and entered 
Harvard in 1859, but ill health compelled him to abandon a 
full collegiate course. Later he entered the law office of 
Judge Frederick Vose of Walpole, and in 1865 he gradu- 
ated from the Harvard Law School and was admitted to 
the New Hampshire bar that year. Soon after he opened 
an office in Boston, but a few years later returned to his 
native town. He was made judge of probate for Cheshire 
County in 1876, holding the position until January 1, 1894, 
when he was appointed railroad commissioner, which office 
he held until he resigned, on account of ill health, in April, 
1901. Besides holding many places of trust, he was judge- 
advocate-general on Governor Sawyer's staff. 

Fred Seneca Bean, the son of Jonas N. and Mary 
(Richardson) Bean, was born in Hudson, February 22, 
1854, and died in Manchester, of consumption, March 16, 
1906. Mr. Bean graduated from the Manchester High 
School at the age of eighteen years, learned the machinist's 
trade in the Amoskeag shops and became, in 1877, the fore- 
man of construction in Blood's Locomotive Works, and it 
was said that he knew more of the application of steam 
than any other man in Manchester. He was a member of 
the Manchester fire department for thirty-one years, for 
more than two-thirds of this time as assistant engineer. 
He married, in 1885, Miss Viola Smith, of Lowell, Mass., 
who, with four daughters, survives him. 


Henry F. Marston, Berlin's first mayor, died in that 
city, after a thirty-five years' residence, March 17, 1906, in 
his sixty-eighth year. He was born in Orrington, Me., and 
married, in 1858, Miss Mary J. McGowen, of Ellsworth, 
Me., who died March 7, 1904. He held various town offices 
and was the city's first mayor for two terms. He was 
prominent as a Mason and Odd Fellow. One son and a 
sister survive him. 

William Oliver Clough, son of John Kenney and 
Ellen Lunt (Libbey) Clough, was born in Grey, Me., July 
14, 1840, and died in Nashua, March 25, 1906. Mr. Clough 
was educated in the schools of Meredith, where he passed 
his boyhood. Graduating from Rev. Hosea Quimby's 
academy in 1856, he went to seek his fortune in Bos- 
ton, where he remained until 1869, when he removed 
to Nashua. Of a literary turn of mind, he soon after 
became city editor of the Nashua Telegraph, which posi- 
tion he held until 1892. In 1895 he obtained a con- 
trolling interest in the Nashua Daily Gazette, and in 
November changed its name to the Nashua Press, which 
he conducted, with the exception of one year, until 
failing health compelled him to merge it with the T)aily 
Telegraph, becoming an editorial writer upon the latter in 
June, 1905. He contributed to the Boston Journal under 
the pen name of "Nashoonon" for over twenty years, and 
wrote for newspapers and magazines over one hundred 
serials, short stories and sketches. He was city marshal 
from 1876 to 1 88 1, and associate justice of the Nashua 
police court from 1878 to his decease. He was prominent 
in Masonic circles. 

Judge Clough was married January 16, 1868, at Man- 
chester, to Julia Moore, daughter of Jonathan H. and 
Hannah Van (Sleeper) Moore, who was a sister of the late 
Congressman Orrin C. Moore of Nashua. Two daughters, 
Mrs. Charlotte Moore Cornish and Miss Christine Rolfe 
Moore, both of whom survive him, were born to that mar- 


riage. Besides the above, he is survived by two brothers, 
John F., commissioner of Hillsborough County, and Edward 
H., postmaster of Manchester. 

Capt. Hollis O. Dudley was born in Alton, N. H., 
December 13, 1833, and died in Barrington, March 31, 
1906. When he was seven years of age, the parents of 
Captain Dudley removed to Gilmanton, where he received 
his education. In 185 1 he came to Manchester, and April 
17, 1 86 1, he enlisted at Concord and was commissioned 
lieutenant of Company K, First Regiment, New Hamp- 
shire Volunteers, to be mustered out August 9, 1861. 
Later he was appointed recruiting officer in Manchester, 
raised a company for the Eleventh Regiment and was mus- 
tered in as captain of Company C, August 26, 1862. His 
military record was a bright one, his most conspicuous 
deed being the capture, single-handed, of the confederate 
commander, Gen. Roger A. Pryor. 

Charles Winthrop Eager, son of John Q. A. and 
Angelina S. (Howe) Eager, was born in Webster, June 16, 
1854, and died in Manchester, April 7, 1906, his parents 
coming to Manchester when he was four years of age. He 
was educated in the city schools, graduated from the High 
School in 1873 and from Dartmouth College in 1877. He 
served in both branches of the city government, and repre- 
sented his ward in the legislature two sessions. He mar- 
ried December 16, 1886, Miss S. Jennie Williams, who sur- 
vives him with three children, Harold W., Mildred H., and 
Helen F., besides his father. 

Judge Joseph Warren Fellows was born in Ando- 
ver, January 15, 1835, and died in Manchester, April 26, 
1906, after a brief illness following a slight cold. He 
was the son of John and Polly (Hilton) Fellows. Reared 
upon a farm, he resolved to enter a professional career, 
and after fitting himself at Andover Academy he entered 
Dartmouth College, to graduate in 1858. He then became 


principal of the Brownvvood Institute at Lagrange, Ga., 
Latin School, but finding that war was imminent, he gave 
up teaching and returned to the North. He began the study 
of law with John M. Shirley of Andover, and after a 
course in the law department of the Albany, N. Y., Insti- 
tute, he graduated from that institution in 1861, and was 
admitted to the bar in the New York court of appeals. 
Upon being admitted to the bar in this state, in 1862, he 
formed a partnership with Capt. Amos B. Shattuck of 
Manchester. Captain Shattuck entering the army, and fall- 
ing in battle at Fredericksburg, on December 13, 1862, Mr. 
Fellows was left to continue his profession alone, remain- 
ing in an office in Merchant's Exchange for over thirty 
years. A Democrat in politics, and always active in a 
cause that he deemed worthy, his professional career has 
left a deep impression on the community in which he 
moved. Entering the employ of the Concord Railroad as 
clerk in 1874, he soon became its attorney and remained 
closely identified with this and its succeeding corporatians 
until his decease. 

He was made judge of the Manchester police court in 
1874, holding the position for eleven years, but never sought 
any political preferment, though serving his party zealously 
in many campaigns. For nearly fifty years Judge Fellows 
was closely identified with the Masonic fraternity, holding 
many positions of trust and honor. He had taken all the 
degrees, the orders of Knighthood and the Ancient and 
Accepted Scottish Rites. He was one of the most active 
promoters in securing to the fraternity the beautiful 
Masonic Home in Manchester. 

He married, in 1865, Miss Susan Frances Moore, who 
died in 1874, and in 1878 he married Mrs. Elizabeth B. Davis 
who survives him. 

Thomas Corcoran was born in Macroon, County 
Cork, Ireland, in 1833, and died in Manchester May 20, 
1906. Mr. Corcoran received his primary instruction in the 


schools of his native town to graduate from the Normal 
School in Dublin in 1853, and immediately became a teacher 
in the national schools of his birthplace. In 1855, with his 
wife, who had been a teacher with him in Macroon, he came 
to this country, taking up his abode in Manchester, where 
he lived to the time of his death, following for many years 
his chosen vocation of teaching. To him belongs the 
credit of perfecting the system of parochial schools in this 
state, and in his day he was acknowledged to be an ideal 
instructor. Of a quiet and dignified manner, he was an 
adept in school management. Many men of prominence, 
including a large number of clergymen, received their first 
training from him. Among these may be mentioned the 
late Rt. Rev. Denis M. Bradley. He is survived by his 
widow, with whom he had enjoyed life for more than fifty 
years; two sons, Rev. Joseph of Rochester, N. Y., and 
Dr. William J. of Brooklyn, N. Y., and one daughter, Miss 
Annie M., who resides at home. 

Prof. George A. Wentworth was born in Wake- 
field August 21, 1845, an d died suddenly in the Dover 
depot, while on his way to York, Me., May 24, 1906. Pro- 
fessor Wentworth was one of America's foremost mathe- 
maticians and was the author of numerous text-books. 
Receiving his preliminary education in the schools of his 
• native town, he took a course at Phillips Exeter Academy, 
•and graduated from Harvard College in the class of '58. 
Returning then to Exeter, he was connected with the acad- 
emy there for over forty years, filling the chair of professor 
of mathematics for thirty-two years. He became one of 
the leading citizens of the town, and gave liberally to the 
academy. He is survived by two sons, George of York, 
Me., and Edmund H. of Exeter, and one daughter, Miss 
Ellen L., with whom he made his home. 


'Cfje C&ttor'si l©tntiotD 

Volume I of the Granite State Magazine closes 
with this number, and we do not think, judging by the 
numerous commendations that we have received, it has been 
a disappointment to our patrons. On the whole, while 
there are certain improvements which we hope to make in 
the coming volume, we think we may review our work with 
satisfaction. But work that is done must speak for itself, 
and we can only stand upon our record. 

Beginning Volume II with our July number, we are 
planning to make it the best yet sent out, and our edition 
will be more than doubled, so many who are not regular 
subscribers will have an opportunity to examine it. The 
leading articles will include a carefully written biographical 
sketch of Hon. Samuel Blodget, the Pioneer of Progress in 
the Merrimack Valley. Judge Blodget had a biography 
that is worth writing, though he has been long neglected. 
As the hundredth anniversary of the opening of traffic upon 
the Merrimack, by his work in building the Amoskeag canal, 
draws near at hand, the sketch, accompanied by a portrait, 
is- most timely. Mr. Chellis V. Smith has prepared an 
account of Major John Simpson and his home in Deerfield. 
Major Simpson has the credit of having been the man to 
fire the first shot by the Americans at Bunker Hill. Our 
Staff Contributor will give us an historical review of the 
town of Merrimack, illustrated with about twenty views and 
portraits. But we need not multiply these attractions. It 
has become a fact that each number of the Granite State 
Magazine increases in interest and value. In that number 
we shall begin the first of a series of articles upon the edu- 
cational institutions in the state. And last, but not least, 
we shall begin a serial story, which we expect will capture 
the crowd. It is a story of real life, and the scene is laid in 
our midst. You have known the actors ; you will recall 
many of the scenes, though this fact will add to its interest. 
Do not fail to read the opening chapters. It begins in July. 



Htlfiliilf..... 4?;. >*!_ .-<£. £? 

Drawn for the Granite State Magazine By ELMER H. BERLUND 


(Reduced one-half from original) 

Vol. I. 

(Dramte J>tate Jpaga^me 

3 /Bontfjl? Publication 
MARCH, 1906. 

No. 3. 

GEORGE WALDO BROWNE . Managing Editor 

Terms:— Per Annum $1.50 

Eight Months . .' 1.00 

Single Copy 15 

To Authors. — The editor respectfully solicits contributions relating to state history, biography and legend 
fro^i those who are in possession of any incidents or narrative of local or general interest. Any one not a regular 
•writer, and not situated to put his notes into readable form, is requested to send the rough draft and we will unde r- 
lake to put it into manuscript for the printer. Every article received will be carefully read and returned, if found 

Address plainly: Editor Granite State Magazine. 


No. 64 Hanover Street. 

Manchester, N. H. 

Entered as second-class matter, December ax, 1905, at the post office at Manchester, New Hampshire, under 

the Act of Congress of March 3, 1S79. 

Printed by Albert Ruemely, 143 Hanover St., Manchester, N. H, 

Cable of Contents 

At the Falls of Namoskeag. (Illustrated Poem) Allen Eastman Cross 97 

Hon. Jonathan Longfellow. (Illustrated) John Scales, A. M. 105 

Twilight. (Poem) Elizabeth Curtis-Brenton 115 

Ways of the Wild Author Woodranger Tales 116 

The Harvest of the Orchard. (Illustrated) J. Warren Thyng 120 

Epping Oaks. (Poem) L. Lavinia Verrill 125 

Nancy Priest Wakefield George Bancroft Griffith 126 

To Lake Asquam. (Illustrated Pcem) Walter S. Peaslee 131 

First Survey of Merrimack River ■. — . George Waldo Browne 133 

Origin of River Names in Berlin Bailey K.Davis 141 

Editor's Window 144 

ajbttorial lookout 

This number of the Granite State Magazine is unavoidably 
late, owing to a fire in the office of our printer and binder, Mr. Ruemely. 
The February number of the magazine, which was all printed and the 
type distributed, was so damaged by smoke and water that it has been 
necessary to reprint the edition. This, coupled with the delays andjcon- 
fusion caused by the fire, has made our present issue two weeks behind 
time. But work has been already begun on the April number, and we 
feel assured that it will be out the first of the month. 


We desfte to call upon our readers for aid in the preparation of a 
series of biographical sketches relating to the men and women who have 
gone out of our state to become noted elsewhere. This list is much longer 
than might be considered at first thought, and it embraces names some, 
of which have become known in remote quarters of the globe. Kindly 
send us such information as you may be able to give and confer a favor 
upon our author at work on the articles. Give us the names, if you can- 
not the particulars of the lives, of those who have gone out of your 

The April number of Granite State Magazine promises to be 
one of unusual interest. Among other features it will contain, printed 
on linen paper, Mr. George Bancroft Griffith's beautiful poem, "The 
Swiss Good Night," with portrait of the author; the third article of 
Mr. Browne's series upon the Merrimack river, describing " Boating 
Days"; Mr. Colby's "Some Warner Houses," which was crowded out 
of the March number; "Oldtime Fireplaces," by the Nestor of the Farms; 
the first of a series of stories for the young, "The Boy Without Fear " ; 
"The Mission of Johnny Appleseed," etc. The illustrations will be of 
the same high grade that we have been using from the first. 

Utterarp Heabe£ 

The New England Magazine for February, in speaking of contempo- 
rary New England humorists, said it was on a farm in Candia, N. H., 
that Sam Walter Foss tasted the early joys of existence. Country-bred 
boys have a form of humor peculiarly their own — fastening a boot over a 
gander's head, attaching a paper bag to a rooster's tail to set him tearing 
about the yard in frantic effort to avoid himself, of tying two rams 
together to spread consternation among the hillside flocks. That Mr. 
Foss did his full share of manual labor during his early years is evident 
in his stocky frame, sturdy wrists, swarthy skin. But long before he 
attained his majority he came to appreciate Josh Billings' remark that if 
a farmer worked like the mischief the year round and paid his own board 
he could just about earn a living. So he hung his scythe — just as Web- 
ster did — in the nearest tree, and started for Tilton Seminary. 

In the March number The Delineator has fallen under the spell 
of romance which the marriage of the President's daughter has evoked, 
and presents as its leading feature an article on " The Brides of the 
White House," illustrated with a handsome portrait of Miss Roosevelt 
never before published. The fiction of the number includes a short 
story by Mary Stewart Cutting, a clever study of child life by Virginia 



Woodward Cloud, and the continuation of "The President of Ouex," 
Helen M. Winslow's interesting club story. Viola Allen, the popular 
young actress who recently married a southern millionaire, writes of 
Shakespeare's heroines from the point of view of one who has personated 
many of them with great success. Dr. Murray concludes her series on 
"The Rights of the Child" with a paper on growth and development ; 
and a unique feature beginning with this number is "Houses by Corre- 
spondence," the first being The Doctor's House. Stories and pastimes 
are supplied for the amusement of children, and in the other deparments 
many topics of interest and value to the home are treated. Fashion, of 
course, plays a large part in this number, and the newest styles are illus- 
trated and described in detail. 

Volume III of Avery's "History of the United States" has come 
to our table, and it fully sustains the promise of the first volume. It is 
a grand work, well conceived and nobly carried out. It is sure to 
become a standard in authority, as it is a marvel of mechanical skill in 
its appearance as a book. Owing to the increase of material, the author 
did not wish to omit or cut down, the publishers state that there 
will be fifteen instead of twelve volumes, as originally announced. The 
following is the new division into periods and the publishers' announce- 
ment in resrard to same: 

Vol. i. 

Period of < 




9- 1817-1837- 

Vol. 2. 

Colonies ; 




10. 1837-1850. 

Vol. 3. 

1 660- 1 740. 


11. 1850.1861. 

Vol. 4. 
Vol. 5. 



I2 - i 1861-1865. 

13. > D 

Vol. 6. 



14. 1 865-1 900 (Reconstruction 

Vol. 7. 


etc., Span.-Amer. War) 

Vol. 8. 



15. Index. 

The quite serious growth of material and data that require attention 
have made necessary the indicated increase. All early subscribers whose 
orders are already on record for the set in twelve volumes will receive 
the^last three without extra charge. This increase will, we are confident, 
result in a betterment of the series. We shall be under less necessity of 
skeletonizing or omitting a narration, and can give the same incompar- 
able treatment to the map work and illustrating that has been attained in 
the early volumes. 



TT M F t0 reac * tnrou »h tne daily and weekly newspapers, the maga- 
1 liVlEr z \ nes anc [ reviews, and the special journals that constantly 
clamor for attention ? Can you find time to read enough of them to keep 
posted even on the important topics of human interest at home and 
abroad ? Does the time demanded by so many periodicals leave you 
time enough for books ? 


MONF Y t0 k uv even a fairly, representative list of papers and mag- 
IViwlNLv 1 az i n es ? Can you afford to subscribe for as many as would 
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weary you to "keep posted" in this busy, hustling age when there are 
so few moments for quiet reading and so many demands for your money ? 

Why Not Take This Tip 

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worry-saver," says Edwin Markham, author of "The Man with the Hoe " 
It gives you in an hour or two, for only ten cents a week, a complete sur- 
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quarterlies of America, Europe, Asia, Africa, and Australia contribute 
their best to its pages. It gives all sides of all questions and organized 
information on all topics. At all news-stands, every week, illustrated, 
ten cents. 

The New Hampshire Genealogical Record, 

An Illustrated Quarterly Magazine, 
Devoted to Genealogy, History and Biography. 

Official Organ of tfje ^eto Cfampsfjire Genealogical ^octety. 

The publication of an exact transcript of the genealogical rerords of New Hampshire is the 
special province of the magazine. 

SUBSCRIPTION : §i.oo per year in advance; single copies, 25 cents. 

Address C. W. TIBBETTS, Editor and Publisher, DOVER, N. H. 

im m mmmm^ mm^mm^m,^^^^^^^^ g -9 



Albert Ruemely, 



i 143 Hanover St., Manchester, N. H. g) 


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